among the topmostbranches of the poplars. Far up there, a breeze seemed to be blowinggently from the west, and as it kissed the tree-tops they bent and bowedbefore it.
Ida lay in a hammock of grass, the book she could no longer see to readlying on her lap in a listless hand.
"No matter how still it is down here," she said, "those trees up thereare always whispering."
"What do you think they are saying?" I asked.
"Oh," she answered, "I would give worlds to know."
"Perhaps," she added, after a pause, "they hear voices up in the skythere that we cannot hear, that they catch sounds of--"
"Stop, Ida, stop," I cried; "why, if you go on like this, instead of thewise, sensible, old-fashioned little girl that I'm so fond of having asmy companion in my rambles, you will degenerate into a poet."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Frank; "well, that is a funny expression to be sure.Degenerate into a poet. How complimentary to the sons and daughters ofthe lyre, how complimentary to your own bonnie Bobby Burns, forinstance!"
Ida half raised herself in her hammock. She was smiling as she spoke.
"It was you, uncle, that taught me," she said. "Did you not tell meeverything that grows around us has life, and even feeling; that inwinter the great trees go to sleep, and do not suffer from the cold, butthat in summer they are filled with a glow of warmth, and that if youlop a branch off one, though it does not feel pain, it experiences coldat the place where the axe has done its work? Haven't you taught me tolook upon the flowers as living things? and don't I feel them to be sowhen I stoop to kiss the roses? Yes, and I love them too; I love themall--all."
"And I've no doubt the love is reciprocated, my little mouse. But now,talking about trees, if Frank will bring the lamp, I'll read you a kindof a story about two trees. It isn't quite a tale either--it is a kindof reverie; but the descriptive parts of it are painted from the life.Thank you, Frank. Now if the moths will only keep away for a minute, ifit wasn't for that bit of displayed humanity on the top of the glass inthe shape of a morsel of wire gauze, that big white moth would go pop inand immolate himself. Ahem!"
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THE TWIN CHESTNUTS: A REVERIE. "THEY GREW IN BEAUTY SIDE BY SIDE."
We weren't the only happy couple that had spent a honeymoon at TwinChestnut Cottage. In point of fact, the chestnuts themselves had theirorigin in a honeymoon; for in the same old-fashioned cottage, more thanone hundred and ninety years ago, there came to reside a youthful pair,who, hand in hand, had just commenced life's journey together. Theyeach had a little dog, and those two little dogs were probably as fondof each other, after their own fashion, as their master and mistresswere; and the name of the one dog was "Gip," and the name of the otherwas "George"--Gip and George, there you have them. And it was veryfunny that whatever Gip did, George immediately followed suit and didthe same; and, _vice versa_, whatever George did, Gip did. If Gipharked, George barked; if George wagged his tail, so did Gip. WheneverGip was hungry, George found that he too could eat; and when George tooka drink of water, Gip always took a mouthful as well, whether she wasthirsty or not. Well, it happened one day in autumn, when thebeauty-tints were on the trees--the sunset glow of the dying year--thatthe two lovers (for although they were married, they were lovers still)were walking on the rustling leaves, and of course George and Gip wereno great way behind, and were having their own conversation, and theirown little larks all to themselves, when suddenly--
"I say, Georgie," said Gip.
"Well, my love?" replied George.
"I'm quite tired watching for that silly blind old mole, who I'm certainwon't come again to-night. Let us carry a chestnut home."
"All right," said George; "here goes."
So they each of them chose the biggest horse-chestnut they could find,and they were only very small dogs, and went trotting home with them intheir mouths; and when they got there, they each laid their little giftsat the feet of their loved master or mistress.
This they did with such a solemn air that, for the life of them, thelovers could not help laughing outright. But the little dogs receivedtheir due meed of praise nevertheless, and the two chestnuts werecarefully planted, one on each side of the large lawn window. And whenwinter gave place to spring, lo! the chestnuts budded, budded and peepedup through the earth, each one looking for all the world like a Hindoolady's little finger, which isn't a bit different, you know, from yourlittle finger, only it is dark-brown, and yours is white. Then thelittle finger opened, and bright green leaves unfolded and peeped up atthe sun and the blue sky, and long before the summer was over they hadgrown up into sprightly little trees, as straight as rushes, and verynearly as tall, for they had been very carefully watered and tended.Very pretty they looked too, although their leaves seemed a mile too bigfor their stems, which made them look like two very small men with verylarge hats; but the young chestnuts themselves didn't see anythingridiculous in the matter.
These, then, were the infant chestnuts.
And as the years rolled on, and made those lovers old, the chestnutsstill grew in height and beauty. And in time poor Grip died, and asGeorge had always done exactly as Gip did, he died too; and Gip was laidat the foot of one tree, and George at the foot of the other, and theirgraves were watered with loving tears. And the trees grew lovelierstill. And when at last those lovers died, the trees showered theirflowers, pink-eyed and white, on the coffins, as they were borne awayfrom the old cottage to their long, quiet home in the "moots."
And time flew on, generation after generation was born, grew up, grewold, and died, and still the twin chestnuts increased and flourished,and they are flourishing now, on this sweet summer's day, and shadingall the cottage from the noonday sun.
It is a very old-fashioned cottage, wholly composed, one might almostsay, of gables, the thatch of some of which comes almost to the ground,and I defy any one to tell which is the front of the cottage and whichisn't the front. There are gardens about the old cottage, fruit gardensand flower gardens, and grey old walls half buried in ivy, which neverlooked half so pretty as in autumn, when the soft leaves of the Virginiacreepers are changing to crimson, and blending sweetly with the ivy'sdusky green.
The principal gable is that abutting on to the green velvety lawn, whichgoes sloping downwards to where the river, broad and still, glidessilently on its way to bear on its breast the ships of the greatest cityof the world, and carry them to the ocean.
But the main beauty of the cottage lies in those twin chestnuts. Nochestnuts in all the countryside like those two beautiful trees; none sotall, so wide, so spreading; none have such broad green leaves, nonehave such nuts--for each nutshell grows as big and spiny as a smallhedgehog, and contains some one nut, many two, but most three nutswithin the outer rind. I only wish you could see them, and you wouldsay, as I do, there are no trees like those twin chestnuts.
The earth was clad in its white cocoon when first we went to TwinChestnut Cottage, and the two giant trees pointed their skeleton fingersupwards to the murky sky; but long before any of the otherchestnut-trees that grew in the parks and the avenues, had even dreamtof awakening from their deep winter sleep, the twin chestnuts had sentforth large brown buds, bigger and longer than rifle bullets, and allgummed over with some sticky substance, as if the fairies had paintedthem all with glycerine and treacle. With the first sunshine of Aprilthose bonnie buds grew thicker, and burst, disclosing little bundles oflight-green foliage, that matched _so_ sweetly with the brown of thebuds and the dark grey of the parent tree.
Day by day we watched the folded leaves expanding; and other eyes thanours were watching them too; for occasionally a large hornet or an earlybee would fly round the trees and examine the buds, then off he would goagain with a satisfied hum, which said plainly enough, "You're gettingon beautifully, and you'll be all in flower in a fortnight."
And, indeed, hardly had a fortnight elapsed, from the time the budsfirst opened, till the twi
n chestnuts were hung in robes of droopinggreen. Such a tender green! such a light and lovely green! and thependent, crumply leaves seemed as yet incapable of supporting their ownweight, like the wings of the moth when it first bursts from itschrysalis. Then, oh! to hear the _frou-frou_ of the gentle wind throughthe silken foliage! And every tree around was bare and brown save them.
Even the river seemed to whisper fondly to the bending reeds as itglided past those chestnuts twain; and I know that the mavis and themerle sung in a louder, gladder key when they awoke in the dewy dawn ofmorn, and their bright eyes rested on those two clouds of living green.
And now crocuses peeping through the dun earth, and primroses on mossybanks, had long since told that spring had come; but the
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