within the "aura" of
the lure it is a human impossibility to leave it. Your will-power is
dwarfed, your intelligence blighted, your feet will refuse to lead you
out by a straight trail, you will circle, circle for evermore about
this magnet, for if death kindly comes to your aid your immortal spirit
will go on in that endless circling that will bar it from entering the
Happy Hunting Grounds.

And, like the cathedral trees, the lure once lived, a human soul, but
in this instance it was a soul depraved, not sanctified. The Indian
belief is very beautiful concerning the results of good and evil in the
human body. The Sagalie Tyee (God) has His own way of immortalizing
each. People who are wilfully evil, who have no kindness in their
hearts, who are bloodthirsty, cruel, vengeful, unsympathetic, the
Sagalie Tyee turns to solid stone that will harbor no growth, even that
of moss or lichen, for these stones contain no moisture, just as their
wicked hearts lacked the milk of human kindness. The one famed
exception, wherein a good man was transformed into stone, was in the
instance of Siwash Rock, but as the Indian tells you of it he smiles
with gratification as he calls your attention to the tiny tree cresting
that imperial monument. He says the tree was always there to show the
nations that the good in this man's heart kept on growing even when his
body had ceased to be. On the other hand the Sagalie Tyee transforms
the kindly people, the humane, sympathetic, charitable, loving people
into trees, so that after death they may go on forever benefiting all
mankind; they may yield fruit, give shade and shelter, afford unending
service to the living, by their usefulness as building material and as
firewood. Their saps and gums, their fibres, their leaves, their
blossoms, enrich, nourish and sustain the human form; no evil is
produced by trees--all, all is goodness, is hearty, is helpfulness and
growth. They give refuge to the birds, they give music to the winds,
and from them are carved the bows and arrows, the canoes and paddles,
bowls, spoons and baskets. Their service to mankind is priceless; the
Indian that tells you this tale will enumerate all these attributes and
virtues of the trees. No wonder the Sagalie Tyee chose them to be the
abode of souls good and great.

But the lure in Stanley Park is that most dreaded of all things, an
evil soul. It is embodied in a bare, white stone, which is shunned by
moss and vi