Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-07-05

then-heaVonS! my aaHS {! IL you sHOulu
We brought to me with bullet through
your breast. !"
The young man bent over the girl,
who leaned caressingly on his shoulder
and kissed her lips.
"People talk too much. Don't believe
everything they say, sweetheart. r" And
putting his arm around her they went
singing through the forest.
When the couple disappeared among
the trees, man in hunters dress crept
from the bushes. He carried his gun on
his back and knife in his belt His
face was white and distorted. He went
up to the beech tree and beheld the
heart that Hans had carved. He laughed
wildly and drew out his knife to destroy
the writing, then, changing his mind,
he thrust the blade again in its sheath.
Shaking his fist threateningly in the d.
rection where the couple had disap-
peared, he muttered, grinding his teeth,
eff I meet you, you poacher, only once
on forbidden ground, you will have
heard the cuckoo sing for the last time.
With these words he went into the
woods.
And the tree shook her head sadly.
The beech tree got many sight of
the faces of the children of men in the
course Of the SUMMERTIME poor women
gathering leaves or dry bark, the berry
pickers, foresters and pilgrims. But the
most cherished amid the guests who
gathered under her leafy roof were the
youth and brown haired maid They
made weekly visits to her, spoke Of their
love, embraced each other, and day by
day the beech tree came to love them
more.
One morning before sunrise, when
the mountains were just casting off their
gray mist caps, Hans came alone. He
carried gun on his shoulder and step
ped as lightly through the underbrush
as if he would take his sweetheart by
surprise. This time his coming had
nothing to do with lovely Eva-but the
stag comes this way to drink!
At the foot Of the tree the hunter
paused and stood as motionless as the
beech herself. The cool morning wind
blew, and the mist disappeared in heavy
clouds. The gay birds flnttered and sang
about the stream. The underbrush rus
tied. Hans raised his gun. A shot rang
out Oh the clear air. Hans dropped his
gun, sprang convulsively into the air
and fell to the ground. A man strobe
hastily from the thicket with smoking
gun in his left hand. The beech tree
knew him we'll. The huntsman bent
over the murdered man. 'It is all over
with him, " he said, and taking his gun
he vanished into the bushes.
The bright sun rose and shone upon a
still form with set white face. Sorrow
fully the tree bent over and wept bitter
tears, and the little robins flew up and
covered the dead face and staring eyes
with leaves and twigs. In the afternoon
some woodcutters came that way and
found the body.
"He has been shot while poaching, F."
they said, and taking him gently up they
bore him to the distant valley. An old
man fingered by the tree. He drew his
knife and carved cross over the heart
that Hans had made. Then he took off
his hat and breathed a prayer. The
leaves Of the green crest rustled, for the
tree prayed, too, in her own way.
For many summers on the anniversary
Of the death Of the murdered man, the
maiden came to the seat, knelt down
and wept and prayed, and every time
she was paler, more fragile. One day
she did not come, and the tree murmur-
cd, "She is dead!" and so il was.
Years passed. The beech had become
mighty tree. Her bark was covered
with brown moss. The wild vines clus-
tered about her trunk, and heart and
cross were both nearly covered. A man
came one day and made third mark on
the bark, and the tree knew her time
had come. She bore the sign Of her de-
struction-she must soon fall. Farewell,
thou green and sunny forest She had
not long to wait for the woodmen, who
came, and with cruel axes cut into her
very life.
A gloomy, glowering man in hunters
dress, with long gray hair and beard,
directed their movements The beech
knew him right we'll, and he appeared
to recognize the tree. He came close tc
her and tearing away both mossand vine
he saw that heart and cross were safe.
Here it was, he muttered, and horror
shook his very frame. Back, Herr For.
ester! Back! |" cried the men. "The tree
is falling!'
The warned man stepped back, but il
was too late. With a deafening crash the
beech fell to the ground and buried the
forester under her corpse. When they
picked him up, he was dead The beech
had crushed his head. And the men
stood in circle roundabout and prayed
for his soul. the German.
Mamma.
Mama is the concentrated juice Of
several plants which grow in great
abundance in many parts of south Eu.
rope, Asia and Africa. The tree which
most generously produces it is sort of
ash. The juice exudes from the stem
during the summer months, as conse.
quence of the punctures Of an insect
that infests the tree, but the better
kinds of mama, known as flake man
ma, are obtained from missions made
in tho bark. The poorer qualities come
from the bark near the roots Of the tree.
The mamma of commerce is obtained
chiefly from Sicily and Calabria. A va.
riety is collected by the Arabian Bed
ouins from species Of tamarix, which
is used on bread like honey. The word
is believed to be derived from the Syriac
mano, gift, though there is little evi.