"You are quick people like me," said the Wind. "I like you for it, and am glad to do you a good turn." And the Fox rolled on the ground at the foot of the Beech Trees and got his fur full of the prickly fruits, and ran with them far out into the country. The Bear did the same, and grinned into the bargain at the Old Oak while he lay and rested in the shadow of the Beeches. The Field Mouse was beside himself with joy over his new food, and thought that Beech nuts tasted much nicer than acorns. All round new little Beech Trees shot up, which grew just as fast as their parents, and looked as green and as happy as if they did not know what an uneasy conscience was. But the Old Oak gazed sadly out over the wood. The light-green Beech leaves were peeping out everywhere, and the Oaks were sighing and bewailing their distress to one another. "They are taking our strength out of us," they said, and shook as much as the Beeches around would let them. "The land is ours no longer." One bough died after another, and the Storm broke them off and cast them on the ground. The Old Oak had now only a few leaves left at the very top. "The end is near," he said gravely. By this time there were many more human beings in the land than there were before, and they made haste to hew down the Oaks while there were still some remaining. "Oak timber is better than Beech timber," they said. "At last we get a little appreciation," said the old Oak, "but we have to pay for it with our lives." Then he said to the Beech Trees,--"What was I thinking of when I helped you on in your young days? What an old stupid I was! Before that, we Oak Trees were lords in the land; and now every year I see my brothers around me perishing in the fight against you. It will soon be all over with me, and not one of my acorns has sprouted under your shade. But before I die I should like to know the name you give to such conduct." "That will not take long to say, old friend," answered the Beeches. "We call it _competition,_ and that is not any discovery of our own. It is competition which rules the world." "I do not know these foreign words of yours," said the Oak. "I call it mean ingratitude." And then he died. THE OAK AND THE SNAIL By Mrs. Alfred Gatty The trunk of the Oak Tree in the corner of the timber yard lay groaning under the plank, which a party of children had thrown across him to play see-saw upon. Not that the plank was so heavy, even with two or three little ones sitting on each end, nor that the Oak was too weak to hold it up--though, of course, the pressure was pretty strong just at the centre, where the plank balanced. But it was such a use to be put to! The other half of the Tree had been cut into beautiful even planks, some time before, but this was the root end, and his time had not yet come, and he was getting impatient.