it was in the old days.

there were no towns with houses and streets and towering church-steeples. there were no schools. for there were not many boys; and those there were learnt from their fathers to shoot with a bow and arrow, to hunt the deer in his hiding-place, to kill the bear in order to make clothes of his skin and to get fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together. when they knew all this thoroughly, their education was completed.

nor were there any railways, or tilled fields, or ships on the sea, or books, for there was nobody who could read them.

there was hardly anything but trees.

but then of trees there were plenty. they stood everywhere from coast to coast, mirrored themselves in every river and lake and stretched their mighty branches up into the sky. they stooped over the sea-shore, dipped their branches in the black water of the marshes and looked haughtily over the land from the tall hills.

they all knew one another, for they belonged to one big family and they were proud of it:

"we are all oak-trees," they said and drew themselves up. "we own the land and we govern it."

and they were quite right, for there were only very few people at that time. otherwise there was nothing but wild animals. the bear, the wolf and the fox went hunting, while the deer grazed by the edge of the marsh.

the wood-mouse sat outside her hole and ate acorns and the beaver built his ingenious house on the river-bank.