"A little flaxen-haired girl sat on the broad doorstep at my feet, and
caught the canker-worms in her white apron. She liked to see them hump
up their backs, and measure off the inches of her white checked apron
with their little green bodies. And I, although I liked them well enough
at first, was not sorry to lose them when they went. I heard the child's
mother telling her that they had come down to make for themselves beds
in the earth, where they would sleep until the early spring, and wake to
find themselves grown into moths just like their mothers, who climbed up
the tree to lay eggs. We shall see when next spring comes if that is so.
Now, since they went, I have done my best to refresh my leaves, and keep
young and happy; and here are my sweet blossoms to prove that I have yet
within me vigorous life."

The elm-tree heard what the linden sung, and said, "Very true, very
true. I, too, have suffered from the canker-worms; but I have yet leaves
enough left for a beautiful shade, and the poor crawling things must
surely eat something." And the elm bowed gracefully to the linden, out
of sympathy for him.

But the linden has heard the voices of the young robins who live in the
nest among his highest boughs; and he must yet tell to the horse-
chestnut how sad it was the other day in the thunder-storm, when the
wind upset the nest, and one little bird was thrown out and killed;
while the father and mother flew about in the greatest distress, until
Charley came, climbed the tree, and fitted the nest safely back into its
place.

How much the trees have to say! And there is the pine, who was born and
brought up in the woods,--he is always whispering secrets of the great
forest, and of the river beside which he grew. The other trees can't