"At last we get a little appreciation," said the old oak, "but we have to pay for it with our lives."
Then he said to the beech trees,—
"What was I thinking of when I helped you on in your young days? What an old stupid I was! Before that, we oak trees were lords in the land; and now every year I see my brothers around me perishing in the fight against you. It will soon be all over with me, and not one of my acorns has sprouted under your shade. But before I die I should like to know the name you give to such conduct."
"That will not take long to say, old friend," answered the beeches. "We call it competition, and that is not any discovery of our own. It is competition which rules the world."
"I do not know these foreign words of yours," said the oak. "I call it mean ingratitude." And then he died.
