The Magnolia, though, excepting one species, a stranger to New England
soil, demands some notice. Any one who has never seen the trees of this
genus in their native soil can form no correct idea of them. I would not
say, however, that they would fall short of his conceptions of their
splendor. When I first beheld one of the large magnolias, though it
answered to my previous ideas of its magnificence, I thought it a less
beautiful tree than the Southern cypress, and less picturesque than the
live-oak, the black walnut, and some other trees I saw there. The
foliage of the Magnolia is very large and heavy, and so dark as to look
gloomy. It is altogether too sombre a tree in the open landscape, and
must add to the gloom of any wood which it occupies, without yielding to
it any other striking character.
There are several species of Magnolia cultivated in pleasure-grounds,
the selection being made from those bearing a profusion of flowers. The
only one that grows wild in New England is of small stature, sometimes
called the Beaver-tree. It inhabits a swamp near Gloucester, about
twenty miles from Boston. This place is its northern boundary. The
flowers are of a dull white, without any beauty, but possessed of a very
agreeable fragrance, causing them to be in great demand. The Magnolia
wood is annually stripped both of flowers and branches, and the trees
will probably be extirpated before many years by this sort of vandalism.