Along an island in the North Sea, five miles from the Dutch coast, stretches a dangerous ledge of rocks that has proved the graveyard of many a vessel sailing that turbulent sea. On this island once lived a group of men who, as each vessel was wrecked, looted it and murdered those of the crew who reached the shore. The government of the Netherlands decided to exterminate the island pirates, and for the job King William selected a young lawyer at The Hague.
"I want you to clean up that island," was the royal order. It was a formidable job for a young man of twenty-odd years. By royal proclamation he was made mayor of the island, and within a year, a court of law being established, the young attorney was appointed judge. In that dual capacity he "cleaned up" the island.
The young man now decided to settle on the island and began to look around for a home. It was a grim place, barren of tree or living green of any kind; it was as if a man had been exiled to Siberia. Still, argued the young mayor, an ugly place is ugly only because it is not beautiful. And beautiful he determined this island should be.
One day the young mayor-judge called together his council. "We must have trees," he said; "we can make this island a place of beauty if we will!" But the practical seafaring men objected; the little money they had was needed for matters far more urgent than trees.
"Very-well," was the mayor"s decision-and little they guessed what the words were destined to mean- "I will do it myself." And that year he planted one hundred trees, the first the island had ever seen.
"Too cold," said the islanders; " the severe north winds and storms will kill them all.""Then I will plant more," said the unperturbed mayor. And for the fifty years that he lived on the island he did so. He planted trees each year; and, moreover, he caused the island government to reserve land which he turned into public squares and parks, and where, each spring, he set out shrubs and plants. Moistened by the salt mist, the trees did not wither, but grew marvellously. In all that expanse of turbulent sea-and only those who have seen the North Sea in a storm know how turbulent it can be-there was no shelter where the birds, storm-driven across the water- waste, could rest in their flight. Hundreds of dead birds often covered the surface of the sea. Then one day the trees had grown tall enough to look over the sea, and, spent and driven, the first birds came and rested in their leafy shelter. And others came and found protection and gave their gratitude vent in song. Within afew years so many birds had discovered the trees in this new island home that they attracted the attention not only of the native islanders but also of the people on the shore five miles distant, and the island became famous as the home of the rarest and most beautiful birds.
So grateful were the birds for their resting-place that they chose one end of the island as a special spot for laying their eggs and raising their young, and they fairly peopled it. It was not long before bird observers from various parts of the world came to "Eggland," as the farthermost point of the island came to be called, to see the marvellous sight, not of thousands, but of hundreds of thousands of birds" eggs.
A pair of storm-driven nightingales had now found the island and mated there; their wonderful notes thrilled the souls of the natives; and, as dusk fell upon the sea-bound strip of land, the women and children would come to "the square" and listen to the evening notes of the birds of golden song. The two nightingales soon grew into a colony, and, within a few years, so rich was the island in its nightingales that over to the Dutch coast and throughout the land and into other countries spread the fame of "The Island of Nightingales."Meantime, the young mayor-judge had kept on planting trees each year, setting out his shrubbery and plants, until their verdure now beautifully shaded the quaint, narrow lanes, and transformed into cool, wooded roads what once had been only barren, sun-baked wastes. Artists began tohear of the place and brought their canvases, and on the walls of hundreds of homes throughout the world hang to-day parts of the beautiful lanes and wooded spots of "The Island of Nightingales."The trees are now majestic in their height, for it is nearly a hundred years since the young lawyer went to the island and planted the first tree. To-day the churchyard where he lies is a bower of cool green, with the trees that he planted dropping their moisture on the lichen-covered stone on his grave.
Edwrd Box
Author.-Edward Box (1863-1930) was a well-known American journalist and author. He was born in Holland; when he was six years old his parents emigrated to the United States. After working for number of publishers he became editor of the Ladies" Home Journal, a magazine that during the 20 years of his editorship attained a wide circulation and influence.
General Notes.-Look at the map of Holland and see if you can guesswhere the Island of Nightingales would probably be. Many of the kings of Holland have been called William-William I. (1815-1840): WilliamII. (1840-1849); William III. (1849-1890). Which William do you think is referred to in the opening paragraph? You will have to read a very long way through the story to get a clue. Write an essay on " Trees and Birds." Is your schoolground a home for birds?
