see."

"Goodness me!" said the willow-tree. "If I could only understand where
you came from!"

Another sprout came, which proved to be the beginning of a
black-currant-bush. A third came, which grew into a dear little
mountain-ash. Every summer there were a couple of dandelions. The bees
came and buzzed and sucked honey and flew away with it to their hives.
The butterflies flitted from flower to flower, sipped a little honey
here and there and ate it up. They knew they had to die, so there was no
reason for saving it.

"It's wonderful!" said the willow-tree. "If only I knew where all this
good fortune comes from!"

"Never mind about that: just take it as it comes," said the elder-bush.

"You will have a fine old age," said the wild rose-bush.

"You're getting hollower and hollower," said the oak. "Remember what I
told you about my poor old uncle."

"He has gradually become quite weak-minded," said the nearest poplar.

"Quite weak-minded ... quite weak-minded ... weak-minded," whispered the
poplars along the avenue.

The blackbird was the first who had visited the willow-tree and he
returned several times each year. One day he came in a great state of
fright and asked if he might hide up there. There was a horrid boy who
had been shooting at him all the morning with his air-gun:

"I am really preserved at this time of the year," he said. "But what
does that brat of a boy care about that? And, if I must lose my life, I
would rather be caught in a proper snare."

"I should have thought it would be better to be shot," said the
willow-tree. "Then you're done with for good and all."

"I don't agree with you," said the blackbird. "While there's life
there's hope. You can always hang on in the snare and struggle and feel
that there may be a chance of escaping."

"Yes, indeed," said the willow-tree, pensively. "That's just my case. I
also am caught in a trap and know that I must die soon, but I cling to
life nevertheless. Well, I have now attained a blessed old age, as the
wild rose said. If only I knew where all the dear creatures who grew in
my top came from!"

"Well, I can tell you that," said the blackbird. "You may be sure that
most of them come from me."

Then he described how fond he was of red berries of every kind. He
resorted in particular to the garden of the manor-house, which was full
of the nicest things. Then, when he sat and digested his food in the
willow-tree, he usually left something behin