Clara Barton, who was at that time preparing for herself a monument, wished also a monument for Baba. She philosophizes and thinks it should be a tree—the longest-lived of all living things. Of a tree’s longevity there is of record in England an oak 800 years, an elm 2,600 years, one yew 3,000 years, and another yew, with a diameter of 27 feet, 3,200 years; in Africa, baobabs 4,000 years; near the Castle of Chapultepec, Mexico, a cypress 26 feet in diameter, and said to be 6,000 years old. Of the first class at Bowdoin was George Thorndike. He planted the Bowdoin Oak, and is the only one of that class remembered by the students of that American college. The boy died in 1802, at the age of twenty-one years, but the tree is still the pride of that great institution of learning, and sacred to the memory of him who planted it. In this instance, Miss Barton thought “Woodman, spare that tree” might be a sentiment to be respected for hundreds of years. She, therefore, selected for a monument to Baba a tree, Jove’s own tree, That holds the woods in awful sovereignty. Characteristic of the heart that quickened to sympathy for life’s woes the peoples of the world is the sentimental philosophizing of Clara Barton on the death of Baba in the following remarkable letter: Glen Echo, Maryland, November 19, 1911. My Dear Mr. Lewis: Your letter telling me of the last of our dear Baba came yesterday; and I hasten to reply, for I know you need sympathy as well as myself. We both loved him, and are alike grieved; and yet there is much to be thankful for. He went quickly and was not left to suffer, nor to give pain or trouble to others. His future care and keeping are no longer questions. He no more needs me. He lived without harm and died well. I do not think he ever knowingly nor intentionally did a wrong thing in his life. Could a human being blest with intelligence and language do better? He had a language of his own which we both understood, and I always felt that he largely understood ours. Kindly as a brother and obedient as a child,—I am glad my last act was for his welfare. He lived with you, and loved you, to the last. He has gone from our hands and our care, leaving with us a loving memory tinctured with respect for the virtues he possessed, and knew not of. Let me thank you, dear Mr. Lewis, for the tender care given his remains, and for the grave you have given him on your own farm. Some time when the spring days come, if you see a thrifty oak sapling and have time, will you kindly transplant it beside the grave? His body will nourish it, and let it be his monument. The children will love and protect it as Baba’s tree. His saddle and bridle you ask; you keep them and his little belongings as no one else could hold them so tenderly as you.