_In the legend of the trees, one finds not only an interesting
story, but also a greater love and respect for Nature._
In a pine grove down in a dark glen lived some tiny fairies. They
had a magic cap which fitted any one who wore it. If one fairy put
it on, all the fairies became invisible.
On the top of a mountain lived some giants who wanted the cap. A
giant went out for a walk one day and came into the glen when the
fairies were not at home. He felt sleepy and decided to take a nap.
The music of the birds lulled him to sleep. He snored and the
fairies returning home heard the loud noise and thought a storm was
approaching. They decided to stop where they were and spend the
night. They spied the giant’s ear, and the queen said:
“Here is a fine cave; we will put the cap in here.”
A fairy put the cap in the giant’s ear and thought it was a very
safe place. Just then the giant awoke and sat up.
The elf in the giant’s ear tried to jump out and run away with the
cap, but the giant caught him and held him. The giant saw the cap
in the elf’s hand and seized it. He placed it on his head and found
that it fitted exactly. The fairies could no longer see him and
began to cry so bitterly that be evening every plant in the glen
was wet with tears.
An eagle who was passing by saw them and felt very sorry:
“I am called the king of the birds,” said he, “and I should be
unworthy of the name if I would not help.” So he flew to the top of
the mountain where the giants lived.
Now, the giants like to fight better than anything else, so the
eagle watched his chance and saw them preparing for war. He knew
that they were proud of their size and always liked to be seen.
“Now,” said the eagle, “this is my chance; they will not wear the
magic cap in battle, and I will watch and see where they hide it.”
One of the giants placed it under a stone. The eagle went at once
to the spot, and lifting the stone, flew away with the cap. The
giants seeing this began to shoot arrows at him. Drops of blood and
some feathers fell on the mountain side, but the eagle did not stop
until the cap was safe in the hands of the queen of the fairies.
On the mountain side wherever the blood and feathers of the eagle
fell, there sprang up trees with feathers like leaves and blood-red
berries. All the giants, fairies, plants, and animals knew why they
grew. The unselfish love in the eagle’s blood could not die, but
lived again in the beautiful trees. But people to whom the fairies
have not told the story call them Mountain Ash trees.