II. THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. 1. And now the oak, "the brave old oak," and so forth. Suppose yourself in a wood! Do you see that little brown. vegetable cup with a braided cover-there by the dead maple leaf and tuft of crimson-headed moss? Yon robin just planted his foot upon and covered it. And then do you see that towering tree whose head seems nearly to touch the white cloud above it? Look! upon its very apex there is a bird, seemingly the size of this wild pigeon on the beech-tree, but in reality an eagle. A great many years have intervened between the two objects, it is true, but you think twice ere realizing that yon seamed, stern, sturdy oak once nestled in this acorn. So of all trees, you say, from the seed. True again, but none strikes you so forcibly in this contrast as the oak. 2. And what a tree it is! First piercing the mold, a tiny needle that the ground-squirrel would destroy with a nibble, and then rearing grandly toward the sun a wreath of green to endure for ages. Does the wild wind dash upon it? It shakes its proud head, but no more bends its whole shape than yon crag. Doth the arrowy sleet strike it? Its leaves only make clicking music; and as for the early snow, it bears it up easily as a deer would fragments of kalmia-blossoms on his antlers. How finely its dark green stands out from the lighter hues of the beeches, birches, and maples! And then how it keeps old Time at a distance! Why, decades are nothing to it. 3. The child gathers the violet at its foot; as a boy, he pockets its dropped acorns; a man, he looks at its height, towering up, towering up, and makes it the emblem of his ambition. Years after, with white hairs and palsied limbs, he totters at noontide to lie within its shade, and slumber, "perchance to dream" of that last sleep which can not be distant, and which "knows no waking." But has the oak changed? Mocker of the storm, stern darer of the lightning, there he stands, the same, and seemingly forever. Challenger of Time, defier of earth's changes, there he stands, the pride of the forest, satirizing, in his mute language, alike the variations of fortune and evanescence of man. 4. And he does all things in a grand, slow way, unlike other trees. In spring-time, when the aspen has showed for a month its young leaves of silver gray, when the beech has thrust forth its beautiful feathers, when the maple has made a red rain of its glowing blossoms upon the forest floor, the oak still looks as he did when January was frowning upon his branches. When the aspen has elaborated its small leaves into thick foliage, when the beech has spangled itself over with emerald, when the maple has hung upon its slender stems its broad pearl-lined verdure, no tint of green upon the oak! He stands yet in dark disdain, as if mourning the perished winter. 5. But at last, when the woodland is smiling in its fullydeveloped glory, when the tardy blossoms of the locust and tulip-tree are drenching the air with delicious sweetness, then stirs the oak. Little brown things are scattered over his great boughs, which in due time become long, deep-veined leaves; and lo! the regal oak has donned his splendid robe. The summer passes, and the autumn comes. What stands at the corner of yon wood, swathed in a mantle of the true imperial? Crimsons and yellows and golden-browns are flashing all around him, as though there were a carnival among the trees; but no hue is brighter than that of the brave old oak in his robe of royal purple. And he is in no more haste to let that robe of his go than in putting it on. 6. When the shrieking blasts have torn its mantle from every other tree, the oak still clings to his, as if he said to those shrieking blasts, "I defy your fury!" When the snowbird comes twittering among the woods to tell them the snow will shortly be showering loose pearl all through their gaunt domains, the oak yet holds to his mantle, blanched and tattered though it be. High amid the snow-drifts, firm amid the blasts, the pale crackling leaves still cling, with nothing in the wide, bleak forests to keep them company, save here and there a shivering lingerer upon the beech-tree. Often it is only when their successors come to push them from their stools," that the old leaves quit the gallant oak and lie down to perish. So, a health to the oak! 66 7. We will merely touch, in passing, upon the horsechestnut, with its great glistening spring-buds bursting into cones of pearly, red-spotted blossoms that almost cover its noble dome of foliage; upon the hemlock, with its masses of evergreen needles, and the cedar, with its misty blue berries; upon those tree-like shrubs—the hopple, with its gigantic leaves serving as sylvan goblets at picnics; the sumac, with its clusters of splendid crimson; the sassafras, diffusing from its thick leaf a most delicious breath; the laurel, arching above the brooks a roof radiant with immense bouquets of rose-touched snow, and even garlanding the apex of the water-beech with its superb chalices, while its younger sister, the ivy, crouches at the foot of the tamarack and spruce, rich in red-streaked urns of blossoms; and the witch-hazel, smiling at winter, with its curled, sharp-cut flowers of golden. velvet. 8. We come now to the pine,—of all, my greatest favorite. Ho! ho! the burly pine! Hurrah! Hurrah for the pine! The oak may be king of the lowlands, but the pine is the king of the hills-aye, and mountains too. 9. Ho! ho! the burly pine! how he strikes his clubbed foot deep into the cleft of the rock, or grasps its span with conscious power! There he lifts his haughty front like the warrior monarch that he is. No flinching about the pine, let the time be ever so stormy. His throne is the crag, and his crown is a good way up in the heavens ; and as for the clouds, he tears them asunder sometimes, and uses them for robes. Then hurrah again for the pine! say I. 10. Reader, did you ever hear him shout? Did you ever hear thunder?-for there is a pine mountain on the upper Delaware that out-roars, in a winter-storm, all the thunder you ever heard! Stern, deep, awfully deep, that roar makes the heart quiver. It is an airquake of tremendous power. And his single voice is by no means silvery when he is “in a breeze." When the stern warrior-king has aroused his energies to meet the onslaught of the storm, the battle-cry he sends down the wind is heard above all the voices of the greenwood. His robe streams out like a banner, and so wild does he look, you would think he was about to dash himself from his throne of rock upon the valley beneath. But T no ; his great foot grasps more closely the crag; and when, after a while, the tempest leaves him, how quietly he settles to his repose! 11. He adorns his crown with a rich wreath caught from the sunset, and an hour after, he wears the orbed moon as a splendid jewel upon his haughty brow. The scented breeze of the soft evening breathes upon him, and the grim warriorking wakes his murmuring lute, and oh! such sounds—so sweet, so soothing! Years that have passed live again in the music; tones long since hushed echo once more in the heart; faces that have turned to dust-but how loved in the old time!-glimmer among the dusky boughs; eyes that years ago closed on earth to open in heaven smile kindly upon us. We lie down in the dark shadow the upon mossy roots and are happy-happy in a sad, sweet, tender tranquillity that purifies the soul, and while it makes us content with earth, fills us with love for heaven. III.-WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. GEO. P. MORRIS. 1. Woodman, spare that tree! In youth it sheltered me, 2. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak, Now towering to the skies. were 8. When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; Here, too, my sisters played. My father pressed my hand: But let that old oak stand! 4. My heart-strings round thee cling, And still thy branches bend. Thy ax shall harm it not. QUESTIONS.-Enumerate the reasons given against cutting down the tree. What feeling is expressed in the first stanza? In what way do you think the old tree's "glory and renown" spread o'er land and sea"? What emotions are expressed in the third stanza? What is meant by "gushing joy"? Explain the first two lines of the fourth stanza. Are the thoughts in this selection highly poetical? Are there any faults in the meter? Are the words in it mostly long or short? What tones are necessary in reading it? What pitch of voice? What degree of force? of speed? IV.—A VISIT FROM OLD NEPTUNE. J. S. SLEEPER. 1. As we drew near the equinoctial line, I occasionally heard some talk among the officers on the subject of a visit from Old Neptune; and as there were three of the crew who had never crossed the line, it was thought probable that the venerable sea-god would visit the brig, and shake hands with the strangers, welcoming them to his dominions. |