The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1885-08-06
The Story OF a Forest Monarch.

Bessie o. Cushing In Western Rural.
One day in midsummer when the
earth seemed exultng in sunshine and
fragrance, | sat at the roots of a VEN
cradle oak that lifted itself in majesty
from the banks of little lake. was
read ng. or attempting to read, but
although my book was interesting, ma
ture kept whispering, "Come read in
the book have written. Many are
the lessons teach; and much of the
beauty in the works of mortals. is but
stolen from my pages"
l let the book slowly close itself and
lie unheedcd on my lap. With my
head rest ng against the trees gray
trunk, gazed up in the clear summer
sky. Great white clouds went dreami-
ly drifting through seas of blue. Up
in the creamy bio SONS of the lndens
thousands of drowsy bees were revel-
ing in fragrant honey. Presently a
little breeze ripp.ed over the lake to
tho oak tree, and it began to whisper
and sigh, and sigh and whisper. so
softly, so sweetly, that said, What
are you saying, oak tree? q. would
that could learn the context of your
musical wordsn'
And all at once l heard the forest
monarch say in tones of deepest mel
Ancholy, "The Zephyr has brought me
sad tidings! My grand and stately
brother that gew On the other shore,
has fallen beneath the glittering ak of
the woodman. We were all that re-
manned of that mighty family of broth
ers and sisters, that danced and played
in the sunshine of the summer, ages
ago.
Tell me, oh, oak tree" then I
cried, 'Tell me the story of your event
full lfe.'
The king of the woodland then
bowed his Stately head, a sad smile
just waved across his majestic visage;
then he began his narrative in voice
strangely soft and low for SO mighty
monarch.
'''Twas glorious summer, centuries
ago, that my little playfellow and I, in
our little green cradles swayed merr ~
in the breeze. The winds rocked us
gently, while the leaves and the BIRDS
sang our lullaby. The lndcns be-
meath seemed sweeter than now. Vi
Diets and primroscs sent their fra
GRANGE up from the bank below But
a tine came when the days were not
so long and sunny; when the winds
shook us rudcly, and made the roor
lcrves culver and sigh. The birds for
got to sing and went flying by in great
bevies. The v;olets and cowsIps had
long been dead, and in their places
tall golden rods tossed up their yellow
plumes and meek little asters gazed at
US with star-likc eyes,
The oak tree was lent moment
and a great sigh shook his mighty
frame. He resumed his story at length.
been more violent than usual, he came
iiercely sweeping through the forest,
and shook us SO angrily that our little
cradles were loosened from the branch
wher'n we grew, and we fell, my
brother and I, down to the bank be-
low. came to rest on bed of moss,
but my broth"~ as blown farther on
and dropped , strand of the little
lake whose waters came rolling in, and
clasping him in Their arms, they bore
him far away. We shouted to each
other until our weak voices were lost
in the roar of the wind and the water.
l looked around me and saw the grace
full golden rod and the bright asters
They nodded to me, and l thought if l.
could never see nv brother again or
swing in the oak tree, at least | had
pleasant companions, that the cruel
wind would hurt me no more, for
when he came sweeping by, the good
moss bent low and tendcrly shielded
me. AS the days wore on, it grew so
cold that | crept closer and closer to
earth, and the good moss spread her
arms above me and | went to sleep.
'Twas long. long n ght but at length
l was startled by a raindrop, who came
dash:ng INTO my retreat excla ming,
lazy acorn! wake up. Get up! 1t is
spring and all the trees and flowers
are blooming, and all the merry birds
are back, singing as blithely as ever.
l thought Of the happy days, when l
had listened to the caroling of BIRDS
and breathed the breath of spring
flowers, and l said: 'l'll make all
poss: BILE haste to Join the busy band
above I made an effort to arse, but
/ felt weak and helpless. After a
time, felt new LIE stirring in my
veins, and by much labor was able
TO push myself into the glad world of
sunlight. A Big dandelion laughed
when she saw me and cried. Hello!
there's little spr;g of an oak tree. A
.'eet violet growing near stopped
own and kissed me saying, You are
lcome my dear, most WELCOME to
ae to our midst.
II the bright joyous summer I
nd played with the flowers and
In the winter, while I slept
wrapped its beautiful white
cund me. So I lived year
til had grown 50 tall.
'v-fellows, the flowers,
SIGHT, and l became
yne >trsss of the for
5fame and built in my
"A ~ >.ssan9 to me, and the
IN, "A of the hike came and