CHAPTER XIV.
ARBOR DAY.
In nearly every household of the big city the children were astir early,all wearing an air of excitement, from the six-year-old in the primaryschool to the "big brother" or sister in the intermediate, for there wasat last something new under the sun--the celebration of "Arbor Day" forthe first time in their city and State.
It was a day to be devoted to the trees and their planting. Every schoolin the city had had a plot of ground set aside for its use, and everyschool had had at least one tree planted, beside those in memory of theteachers who had passed away to the unknown land.
There was no set time for departure and no special gathering place, sothat at almost any hour after nine o'clock on that lovely May morninggroups of children might have been seen wending their way toward theeastern hills. Those in the vicinity of Eden Park walked, a few droveover with their parents or friends, but the great majority filled thestreet cars to overflowing, laughing and chattering and enjoying aholiday as only school children can.
Forming a portion of the last class were the pupils of the "FirstIntermediate," that old landmark which has guided so many embryocitizens of our great Republic through the intricate paths of fractions,decimals, and so on, to the crowning difficulty of cube root; throughgrammar and history and geography, before bidding them "Godspeed" asthey entered the high-school or took up the story of their lives in someother direction.
Among these last, lunch baskets in hand, were the five young warriors,but with their armor off and as great an air of being on pleasure bentas though they had never thought of anything more serious. Miriam asusual had the floor, and the entire car-load of girls and boys, nearlyall of them her classmates, were laughing at her remarks.
There was a change of cars at Fountain Square and again at the foot ofthe Mt. Adams incline, but the five girls managed to keep from beingseparated. Arrived at the top of the hill, they stopped to breathe inthe fresh air and admire the beautiful landscape--the Kentucky hills faraway in the distance, with the beautiful Ohio flowing placidly at theirfeet; Cincinnati, in its hill-encircled cup, making, with Covingtonand Newport and the various smaller villages, part of one great whole,linked by the bridges across the Ohio and the Licking.
"This reminds me," said Ernestine, who was the historian of the littlecompany, "of the name first chosen for our city--Losantiville, the townopposite the mouth of the Licking; 'ville,' town; 'anti,' opposite;'os,' mouth; 'L,' initial of Licking."
"Dreadful!" said Miriam. "Imagine this great city designated as a townacross the way from that little stream! It would be like the immensewoman I saw the other day. I know she weighed over two hundred. Therewas a little man walking beside her, and he called her 'Birdie!' Indeedhe did, and she called him 'Horatio!'"
"Our city started about here," said Ernestine, after the girls hadstopped laughing, "or just at the foot of the hill, and grew first alongthe river. Later on it spread northward, and Fourth Street was one ofits aristocratic streets."
"There comes Josie Thompson," said Fannie. "She's evidently bent onhaving a good time, and she's gotten up regardless. See that chainaround her neck; plated, I'm sure."
"Don't look so sober, Ernestine," said Miriam. "There wouldn't be anyuse in living if you could not make fun of people once in a while."
"But perhaps Josie has never been taught any better at home," saidWinnifred, suddenly thinking of the giants.
"She has eyes, hasn't she?" said Gretta. "But it seems to me she can'thave ears, or else she couldn't help hearing that dress she has on. Iknow that's what my father would say."
Just then Josie came up to them. "Hello, girls! Going to have a goodtime? I tell you I am! Glad to have one day with no lessons to learn!"And she passed on with her friends, leaving the girls, even Ernestine,convulsed.
"Let's go on to the park," said Ernestine.
Accordingly they gathered up their baskets and other belongings. It wasbut a short walk, and they soon reached the spot where many of theirschoolmates had already assembled.
At twelve o'clock the schools had a few simple exercises. The childrensang, "My Country, 'Tis of Thee," one of the girls of their graderecited "Woodman, Spare that Tree," and Fannie's father made a briefaddress. He talked to them of the part the forests play in helping toprevent drouths and disastrous floods. He told of the old Italian poetwho called the trees "my brothers," and said that everyone, whetherpoet or not, should have especial tenderness and affection for thesebeautiful and useful bits of nature which grow up around us, relievingour eyes from the glare of day, shading us from the noonday sun, andgiving us pleasure in many ways, so that their useless and wantondestruction becomes a sin against mankind.
After the conclusion of this little talk (for it was that rather thana set speech), the children gathered up their lunch baskets and boxes,each party sought the spot that pleased it best, and soon the hillsidewas dotted with groups of boys and girls engaged in disposing ofsandwiches, pickles, pies, cakes, fruit, and so on, with great enjoymentand good appetites.
The afternoon was passed most pleasantly by Winnifred and her ownspecial friends, reinforced by many of the girls and boys of her class.Games of all sorts were indulged in with unflagging energy and goodspirits for two or three hours.
About four o'clock Fannie's parents came for her in a carriage. Soonafter Winnifred's mother arrived on the scene with little Ralph, andthey were shown the trees which had just been planted and told aboutall the events of the day. By this time nearly every one was makingpreparations to leave, and by five o'clock the park was almost desertedand the happy day had become only a memory. But the seeds of thoughtplanted there fell not altogether on stony ground, and were destined tobear fruit at some future day.
Indeed, the very next morning Ralph insisted on having an Arbor Day ofhis own, and he put in the ground a branch of willow, which took rootand thrived, growing so rapidly that in a few years it was taller thanhimself; and each spring, when it put forth its delicate gray-greenfoliage, it recalled to Winnifred that most delightful Arbor Day.