"Oh, Miss Harson!" said Clara, in a low tone. "Is that true?"
"We do not know that it is, dear, nor do we know that it is not. Here are some verses about it which I like very much:
"'The tremulousness began, as legends tell,
When he, the meek One, bowed his head to death
E'en on an aspen cross, when some near dell
Was visited by men whose every breath
That Sufferer gave them. Hastening to the wood--
The wood of aspens--they with ruffian power
Did hew the fair, pale tree, which trembling stood
As if awestruck; and from that fearful hour
Aspens have quivered as with conscious dread
Of that foul crime which bowed the meek Redeemer's head.
"'Far distant from those days, oh let not man,
Boastful of reason, check with scornful speech
Those legends pure; for who the heart may scan
Or say what hallowed thoughts such legends teach
To those who may perchance their scant flocks keep
On hill or plain, to whom the quivering tree
Hinteth a thought which, holy, solemn, deep,
Sinks in the heart, bidding their spirits flee
All thoughts of vice, that dread and hateful thing
Which troubleth of each joy the pure and gushing spring?'"
CHAPTER IX.
ALL A-BLOW: THE APPLE TREE.
It certainly was a beautiful sight, and the children exclaimed over it in ectasy. It was now past the middle of April, and Miss Harson had taken her little flock to visit an apple-orchard at some distance from Elmridge, and the whole place seemed to be one mass of pink-and-white bloom.
"And how deliciously sweet it is!" said Malcolm as he sniffed the fragrant air.
"Oh!" exclaimed Edith, turning up her funny little nose to get the full benefit of all this fragrance; "I can't breathe half enough at once."
"That is just my case," said her governess, laughing, "but I did not think to say it in that way. Get all you can of this deliciousness, children; I wish that we could carry some of it away with us."