_THE POPLARS_.
The bruised foot was not comfortable to walk on for two or three days,
and Edith was settled in the great easy arm-chair with dolls and toys
and picture-books in a pile that seemed as if it would not stop growing
until every article belonging to herself and Clara had been gathered
there. "We can go on with our trees," said Miss Harson, "even if we do
not see them just yet; and this evening I should like to tell you
something about the poplar, a large tree with alternate leaves which is
often found in dusty towns, where it seems to flourish as well as in its
favorite situation by a running stream. An old English writer calls the
poplars 'hospitable trees, for anything thrives under their shade.' They
are not handsomely-shaped trees, but the foliage is thick and pretty. In
the latter part of this month--April--the trees are so covered with
their olive-green catkins that large portions of the forests seem to be
colored by them."
[Illustration: IN THE EASY CHAIR]
"Are there any poplars at Elmridge?" asked Malcolm.
"Not nearer than the woods," was the reply, "where we must go and look
for them when Edith's foot is quite well again, though there are a good
many in the city. The poplar is often planted by the roadside because it
grows so rapidly and makes a good shade. The _Abele_, or silver poplar,
is an especial favorite for this purpose.
"The balm of Gilead, or Canada poplar, is the largest of the species,
and really a handsome tree, often growing to the height of fifty or
sixty feet, with a trunk of proportionate size. It has large leaves of a
bright, glossy green, which grow loosely on long branches, A peculiarity
of this tree is that before the leaves begin to expand the buds are
covered with a yellow, glutinous balsam that diffuses a penetrating but
very agreeable odor unlike any other. The balsam is gathered as a
healing anodyne, and for many ailments it is a favorite remedy in
domestic medicine. All the poplars produce more or less of this
substance.
"The river poplaris found on the banks of rivers and brooks and in wet
places, and is a noble and graceful tree. The trunk is light gray in
color, and the young trees have a smooth, leather-like bark. The broad
leaves, of a very rich green, grow on stems nearly as long as
themselves, and the flowering aments are of a light-red color. The
leaf-stalks and young branches are also brightly tinted. Another of
these trees has a very singular name: it is called the necklace poplar."
[Illustration: LOMBARDY POPLAR.]
"Do the flowers grow like real necklaces?" asked Clara.
"Not quite," replied her governess, "but the reason given is something
like it. The tree is so called from the resemblance of the long ament,
before opening, to the beads of a necklace. In Europe it is known as the
Swiss poplar and the black Italian poplar. Its timber is much valued
there for building. There are also the black poplar and that queer,
stiff-looking tree the Lombardy poplar. Cannot one of you tell me where
there are some tall, narrow trees that look almost as if they had been
cut out of wood and stuck there?"
"I know where there are some," said Malcolm: "right in front of Mrs.
Bush's old house; and I think they're miserable-looking trees."
"When old and rusty, they are not in the least cheerful," replied Miss
Harson; "and it is so long since Lombardy poplars were admired that few
are found except about old places. The tree is shaped like a tall spire,
and in hot, calm weather drops of clear water trickle from its leaves
like a slight shower of rain. It was once a favorite shade-tree, and a
century ago great numbers of Lombardy poplars were planted by village
waysides, in front of dwelling-houses, on the borders of public
grounds, and particularly in avenues leading to houses that stand at
some distance from the high-road.
[Illustration: A GROUP OF POPLARS IN CASHMERE]
"The poplar is found in many lands. The Lombardy poplar, as its name
indicates, was brought from Italy, where it grows luxuriantly beside the
orange and the myrtle; but after one of our cold winters many of its
small branches will decay, and this gives it a forlorn appearance. When
fresh and green, the Lombardy poplar is quite handsome. Some one wrote
of it long ago: 'There is no other tree that so pleasantly adorns the
sides of narrow lanes and avenues, and so neatly accommodates itself to
limited enclosures. Its foliage is dense and of the liveliest verdure,
making delicate music to the soft touch of every breeze. Its
terebinthine odors scent the vernal gales that enter our open windows
with the morning sun. Its branches, always turning upward and closely
gathered together, afford a harbor to the singing-birds that make them a
favorite resort, and its long, tapering spire that points to heaven
gives an air of cheerfulness and religious tranquillity to village
scenery.'"
"I wish we had some," said Edith, "with singing-birds in 'em."
"Why, my dear child," replied her governess, "have we not the beautiful
elms, in which the birds build their nests and where they fly in and out
continually? They are the very same birds that build in the
Lombardy poplars."
"I thought that singing-birds always lived in cages," said the little
queen in the easy-chair.
"And did you think they were hung all over the Lombardy poplars?" asked
Malcolm, in a broad grin.
Edith laughed too, and Miss Harson said smilingly.
"I thought that the birds about Elmridge did a great deal of singing,
and the blue-birds and robins kept it up all day. But I should not like
to see the old Lombardy poplars hung with gilded cages, and the birds
which should happen to be prisoners in the cages would like it
still less."
"Well," said Edith, contentedly, as she settled herself again to
listen.
"The poplar," continued Miss Harson, "has a great many insect enemies,
and the Lombardy is not often seen now, because a great many of these
trees were destroyed on account of a worm, or caterpillar, by which they
were infested. Poplar-wood is soft, light and generally of a pale-yellow
color; it is much used for toy-making and for boarded floors, 'for which
last purpose it is well adapted from its whiteness and the facility with
which it is scoured, and also from the difficulty with which it catches
fire and the slowness with which it burns. A red-hot poker falling on a
board of poplar would burn its way without causing more combustion than
the hole through which it passed.'"
"I should think, then," said Malcolm, "that all wooden things would be
made of poplar."
"It is generally thought not to be durable," was the reply, "but it is
said that if kept dry the wood will last as long as that of any tree.
Says the poplar plank,
"'Though heart of oak be ne'er so stout,
Keep me dry and I'll see him out.'
"The poplar has been highly praised, for every part of this tree answers
some good purpose. The bark, being light, like cork, serves to support
the nets of fishermen; the inner bark is used by the Kamschadales as a
material for bread; brooms are made from the twigs, and paper from the
cottony down of the seeds. Horses, cows and sheep browse upon it.
"And now," said Miss Harson, when the children were wondering if that
were the end, "we have come to the most interesting tree of the whole
species--the aspen, or trembling poplar. It is a small, graceful tree
with rounded leaves having a wavy, toothed border, covered with soft
silk when young, which remains only as a fringe on the edge at maturity,
supported by a very slender footstalk about as long as the leaf, and
compressed laterally from near the base. They are thus agitated by the
slightest breath of wind with that quivering, restless motion
characteristic of all the poplars, but in none so striking as this. 'To
quiver like an aspen-leaf has become a proverb. The foliage appears
lighter than that of most other trees, from continually displaying the
under side of the leaves.
"The aspen has been called a very poetical tree, because it is the only
one whose leaves tremble when the wind is apparently calm. It is said,
however, to suggest fickleness and caprice, levity and irresolution--a
bad character for any tree. The small American aspen, which is quite
common, has a smooth, pale-green bark, which gets whitish and rough as
the tree grows old. The foliage is thin, but a single leaf will be
found, when examined, uncommonly beautiful. A spray of the small aspen,
when in leaf, is very light and airy-looking, and the leaves produce a
constant rustling sound. 'Legends of no ordinary interest linger around
this tree. Ask the Italian peasant who pastures his sheep beside a grove
of _Abele_ why the leaves of these trees are always trembling in even
the hottest weather when not a breeze is stirring, and he will tell you
that the wood of the trembling-poplar formed the cross on which our
Saviour suffered.'"
"Oh, Miss Harson!" said Clara, in a low tone. "Is that _true_?"
"We do not know that it is, dear, nor do we know that it is not. Here
are some verses about it which I like very much:
"'The tremulousness began, as legends tell,
When he, the meek One, bowed his head to death
E'en on an aspen cross, when some near dell
Was visited by men whose every breath
That Sufferer gave them. Hastening to the wood--
The wood of aspens--they with ruffian power
Did hew the fair, pale tree, which trembling stood
As if awestruck; and from that fearful hour
Aspens have quivered as with conscious dread
Of that foul crime which bowed the meek Redeemer's head.
"'Far distant from those days, oh let not man,
Boastful of reason, check with scornful speech
Those legends pure; for who the heart may scan
Or say what hallowed thoughts such legends teach
To those who may perchance their scant flocks keep
On hill or plain, to whom the quivering tree
Hinteth a thought which, holy, solemn, deep,
Sinks in the heart, bidding their spirits flee
All thoughts of vice, that dread and hateful thing
Which troubleth of each joy the pure and gushing spring?'"