the children went on up the mountain. At first they
thought only of how pretty it looked to see all the rosy-cheeked little
children scattered over the gray hills. Later, they observed how the
children were working--how some were setting out shrubs, while others
were digging furrows and sowing seeds. Others again were pulling up
heather to prevent its choking the young trees. They saw that the
children took the work seriously and were so intent upon what they were
doing that they scarcely had time to glance up.

The fathers and mothers stood for a moment and looked on; then they too
began to pull up heather--just for the fun of it. The children were the
instructors, for they were already trained, and had to show their elders
what to do.

Thus it happened that all the grown-ups who had come to watch the
children took part in the work. Then, of course, it became greater fun
than before. By and by the children had even more help. Other implements
were needed, so a couple of long-legged boys were sent down to the
village for spades and hoes. As they ran past the cabins, the
stay-at-homes came out and asked: "What's wrong? Has there been an
accident?"

"No, indeed! But the whole parish is up on the fire-swept mountain
planting a forest."

"If the whole parish is there, we can't stay at home!"

So party after party of peasants went crowding to the top of the burnt
mountain. They stood a moment and looked on. The temptation to join the
workers was irresistible.

"It's a pleasure to sow one's own acres in the spring, and to think of
the grain that will spring up from the earth, but this work is even more
alluring," they thought.

Not only slender blades would come from that sowing, but mighty trees
with tall trunks and sturdy branches. It meant giving birth not merely
to a summer's grain, but to many years' growths. It meant the awakening
hum of insects, the song of the thrush, the play of grouse and all kinds
of life on the desolate mountain. Moreover, it was like raising a
memorial for coming generations. They could have left a bare, treeless
height as a heritage. Instead they were to leave a glorious forest.

Coming generations would know their forefathers had been a good and wise
folk and they would remember them with reverence and gratitude.

A DAY IN HAeLSINGLAND

A LARGE GREEN LEAF

_Thursday, June sixteenth_.

The following day the boy travelled over Haelsingland. It spread beneath
him with new, pale