Away in the distance Helena spied the red-brown coat of a deer and heard its call to the fawn. Out from a tangled mass of vines and low swaying branches bounded the spotted young beauty, and answered back: "Here mother-deer, the forest has safely sheltered me, and fed me too on sweet young sassafras shoots. May I now take a run with you?"
Then Helena gazed in the stream at the fishes, who answered her thought: "Yes, we too would perish were it not for the shady pools that reflect the lacy network of the trees that draw down the rain from heaven to fill the stream and keep the water fresh."
Filled with wonder at these voices of the woods, Helena realized that though it seemed so silent it was full of song and happy life, but that the love and harmony of these beings made the magic of the place and filled it with peace and soul-inspiring influences. While she meditated and watched the bees gathering sweets from the fragrant wood-violets and wild-plum blossoms, she heard a voice so startlingly loud that she jumped with surprise. It said "Who? Who? Who——o?" and seemed to come from the very tree tops. While looking up in wonder, Helena saw a great, fluffy cream-colored bird with brownish bars on its wings and a big round head with two enormous yellow eyes, float noiselessly away through the forest. Could that voice have come from the bird? "What did he say 'Who? Who? Who——?' It seemed to question me, asking to whom were all these creatures, as well as myself, beholden? Why, yes, every voice spoke of love for and indebtedness to the trees. They stand here so silently and majestically through ages, affording food, shelter, shade, and protection, for all these other beings whose very lives depend upon them. The dear trees are monarchs over all, yet serve all, standing here with their roots fast in the soil and their heads touching the sun-bright heavens. To us people too, though we may live in cities and never know or think of the forest trees, we could scarcely live without them. Our houses, our furniture, and almost everything that is of use or convenience to us have some wood about them; and then we enjoy the nuts, the fruit, and other kinds of food produced by the trees as much as the squirrels and birds, no doubt. Perhaps these trees bring down from higher regions other forces that feed our souls also—Who? Who Who——o knows?"
"Yes, now I understand," thought Helena, "why the great Initiates, Masters and Saviors of the world, were called 'Trees.' Jesus was called 'the Tree of Life,' and the Initiates spoken of in the Bible, 'the Cedars of Lebanon.' They stand and serve and protect."
Then Helena remembered that she had read in her Scandinavian Mythology that trees were formed from the hair of the giant Ymir, in the creation of the world. "His blood formed the oceans and rivers; his bones the mountains; his teeth the rocks and cliffs; and his hair, the trees." Also that "the universe springs from beneath the branches of the world-tree Yggdrasil, the tree with three roots."
Helena must certainly have been sitting on a branch or root of the tree of wisdom when getting into such a deep strain of thought. The spirit of the forest had awakened her soul to the realization of the fact of Brotherhood in Nature too, the give and take, the unity and inseparable life of the denizens of the wood that made it such a magic place. She also saw why the tree was made a symbol of universal life, for all other life in the world is really somewhat dependable upon the trees.
"No wonder," Helena thought, as she walked back to her father's bungalow, "no wonder there is such magic in the depth of the forest, and that father comes here to get in touch with the soul of things. That is why 'tis said that 'Poetry is the true language of the soul.'"
