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Morat (June, 1476), between the Swiss and the invading Burgundians and the haughty Duke Charles the Bold, in which the latter was most signally defeated. A young soldier of Freyburg was anxious to be the first to announce the triumph of the Swiss. He ran all the way (a distance of about ten miles) with such speed, that when he reached the market-place he was just able to exclaim" Victory !" when he dropped, and expired of fatigue. A sprig of lime-tree, which he carried, was taken from his dead hand, and planted on the spot, where it still stands. The trunk is now twenty feet in diameter, the branches are thick and wide-spreading, but much decayed, though still bearing leaves. In order to preserve the tree as much as possible, the boughs are supported on stone pillars.

On the Mall at Utrecht are eight rows of limes, which were spared by the troops of Louis XIV., when they took that city, and destroyed everything else save those trees.

The lime was introduced into England in 1591, by Spellman, the papermaker, at the first paper-mills, at Dartford, where his trees are (or at least were very recently, if not still) extant and flourishing.

us.

The lime is a great favourite with

Its stature is so stately that it rises like a pyramid of foliage; its green blossoms are so ornamental, and so much loved by the bees, and its springtide verdure is so bright, yet so tender, that it always looked to us like the true tint of Hope's waving robe. Let us, then, appropriate to it a hopeful strain :—

THE MIRROR OF HOPE.
M. E. M.

Amid the desert's rugged scene,
Delusive Hope! why dost thou stand,
Displaying thus with smiling mien

A mystic mirror in thine hand?
Alas! my sinking heart to mock

The gleaming crystal cheats mine eyes, Casting on barren sand and rock

The light, the tints of paradise.

Reflected in the glass I see

Bare rocks with moss and flow'rets gay; Young leaves bedeck the blighted tree,

And 'mid the sands a streamlet's playBut false are flower, and stream, and leaf; I look around-the vision's o'erCease, cruel Hope! to sport with grief; Thy magic shall deceive no more.

I snatch thy mirror-break it-strew
The scatter'd relics far and near-
But see! full many a vivid hue,
And gleam and ray are sparkling here.
O'er all the wilderness they beam,

The shiver'd crystal's atoms bright, And make the illumin'd landscape seem Refulgent with a wondrous light.

Like earth-born stars here glittering keen, Like fragments of a rainbow thereLike jewels dropt by elfin queen,

Like fountain's spray, like dew-drops fair, The shattered mirror multiplies

Its vainly-broken fairy spell.
O Hope! in thee what magic lies!
Thy power is indestructible!

The tall straight POPLAR (populus alba), too formal where there are many together, gives, when judiciously introduced, as in the clump which we can see from this, a pleasing variety to a wood. Look at the leaves on this spray of poplar; they are of a full-coloured green above, and are nearly white beneath. The classic poets say that the leaves were originally of an uniform hue, but changed when Hercules went down to Tartarus to bring up Cerberus, at the desire of Eurysthenes. On his downward course he pulled branches of the poplar that grew by the river Acheron, and made a wreath to keep his head cool. The outside of the leaves were darkened by the smoke of Tartarus, and the inside bleached by the heat of the hero's temples. To him the poplar was dedicated, because having slain a robber who harboured in a cave on Mount Aventine, the victor crowned himself from the poplars which grew round the den; hence Virgil (Georgica, lib. ii.), speaking of the poplar, says

"Herculeæ arbos umbrosa corona."

The poplar has been from early times esteemed the tree of the people, or pop(u)lar tree. So it was considered among the Romans, and was planted as the tree of liberty during the time of the Republic, as it was in France during the first Revolution, when it was set up in the streets, and crowned with the cap of liberty. The French name peuplier is cognate with peuple, the people; as in Latin populus is the people, and a poplar. Perhaps the origin of this appropriation might have been the dedication of the tree to Hercules, who was a great antagonist of tyrants, and a reformer of abuses; yet he was

himself, for a time, under the command of Eurysthenes, as great a despot, and as full of caprices as his majesty the people in his wildest and freest mood.

The ASPEN (populus tremula) is said by tradition to have furnished the wood for our Lord's cross; wherefore the leaves have never since been able to rest; but are always quivering and whispering, as though with grief and dismay.

It has been observed that Virgil showed his skill as a naturalist when he selected the BEECH (fagus sylvatica) to shelter his reclining swain;* for no tree forms a more complete roof of verdure. Its beauty and its shade have made it a poet's tree. Near Binfield, in the precincts of Windsor Forest, stands the now old and shattered beech at whose foot Pope loved to bask, and beneath which many of his early poems were written. Lady Gower caused the words, "Here Pope sang," to be carved upon its trunk.

At Stoke Pogis is Gray's favourite beech, of which he says in one of his letters that he used to squat at its foot, and grow to the trunk for a whole morning." He alludes to it in his "Elegy "

"There at the foot of yonder 1.odding beech,

That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that bubbles by."

Waller's beech is still shown at Penshurst, where he sang of his fair but scornful Sacharissa.

On the borders of Lake Weter, in Sweden, stands a remarkable beech, called, "The Twelve Apostles," because it originally divided into twelve stems; one of which, however, was felled by a zealous peasant, who said that the traitor Judas should have no part with his brethren." He might have let it stand in honour of St. Matthias, who filled up the vacant place of Judas. This beech bears names inscribed by royal hands. Here is the name of Hedwiga Eleonora of Hol stein, Queen of Charles X. of Sweden, the wedded wife of but six short years, who during the frequent wars of her brave young husband came sometimes to this quiet scene to recreate her anxious thoughts. Here,

too, is the incised autograph of her son, Charles XI., whose kingdom flourished during his mother's regeney, who, like his father, warred successfully with the Danes, and, like him,† died early. Here, too, a visitor to this tree, to dream perhaps beneath its shade of military glory, came the redoubtable warrior Charles XII., and here he has added his name to those of his father, grandfather, and grandmother.

At the Pythian games, in honour of Apollo's conquest over the great serpent Python, the prize for the victor in running, chariot-racing, quoit-throwing, wrestling, boxing, fighting in armour, &c., was originally given in gold and silver; but subsequently a more romantic spirit predominated, and the prize awarded was a beechen crown. At first the contest was merely musical and poetical, and the prize was given to him who best sang the praises of Apollo, accompanying himself on the lyre; a far more pleasing competition than the violent exercises afterwards introduced. Hesiod, the celebrated Hesiod himself, was rejected as a competitor because he could not play upon the lyre, an indispensable qualification. The sacrifices offered at the Pythian games were of unusual magnificence. For those prepared by Acastus the Argonaut and King of Thessaly, he commanded all his cities to fatten a certain number of oxen, sheep, and swine; and proposed a crown of gold for the citizen who should produce the fattest ox, to head the procession of the victims; and this is the earliest "cattle show" of which we have read.

Of old the beech was venerated next to the oak, as its mast, or nuts, furnished food for man, as well as the acorns. In these better times we abandon both to our pigs, whose salted flesh has, according to Verstegan, derived its Saxon name bacon, from the beech mast on which our ancestors fattened their hogs-bucon, beechen (buch, a beech). But beech has also an etymology connected with a much nobler class of beings than the actual swinish multitudei.e., the literati. Its smooth, easily-cut bark renders it suitable for writing tablets. Hence our word book is from the German buch,

* Tityre, tu patulæ recubans sub tegmine fagi.

↑ Charles X. died 1660, aged thirty-seven; Charles XI. died 1697, aged forty-two.

a beech; and in German, a letter of the alphabet is buchstab, literally a beech-staff.

Laurence Coster when walking* in a wood near Haerlem, amused himself by cutting words on the bark of a beech; he then filled up the hollows of the words with dust, and took off the impression on a moistened sheet of paper. With the help of his son-inlaw he improved on his experiment, and invented printer's ink; whence he is considered by the Dutch as the inventor of printing.

Let us permit an ancient Italian poet to inscribe his axioms on the inviting trunk of this literary tree:

ATTRIBUTES OF VIRTUE.

FROM THE OLD ITALIAN OF FOLGORE DI SAN GEMIGNANO. A.D. 1260.

("Fior di virtù si e zentil corazo," &c.) The flower of virtue is a noble heart:

The fruit of virtue, honour, firm, unbent; Vessel of virtue, thou, proud valour, art;

The name of virtue, is "a man content:" And virtue's face is modesty's bright hue: And virtue's mirror, no offence to see; And virtue's love is service prompt and true; And virtue's gift is fair posterity: And virtue's throne is wisdom's seat sublime; And virtue's arm is welcome, warm and

free;

And virtue's sense, love triumphing o'er time;

And virtue's work, unwav'ring loyalty: And virtue's power, patience enduring still; And virtue's sum is rendering good for ill.

The common MAPLE (acer campes tre), of more shrub-like growth than other forest trees, is much esteemed by turners; the "treen" (tree-en) cups and trenchers of our forefathers were generally made from its wood. Virgil represents Evander, the old Arcadian prince and emigrant, who received Eneas hospitably in Italy, as seated on a maple throne, solio acerno —— (Eneid viii.)

Our SYCAMORE (acer major, or acer pseudo platanus), with its handsome, lobed leaves, is a kinsman of the maple. The sycamore of Scripture is a different tree, having a fruit like the fig, and a leaf like the mulberry, whence its name, from the Greek words sukos, fig, and moros mulberry. Its wood was esteemed for mummy cases.

This spray of Yew (taxus baccata),

with its dark, slender, formal leaves, reminds us of a mourning plume, and well beseems a funereal tree. Being evergreen, it was planted in churchyards as a symbol of eternity and im mortality. It was brought into fashion in England by Evelyn, to supersede the cypress.

The longevity of the yew is extraordinary. There is one on the road from Lake Maggiore to Milan, said to be coeval with Julius Cæsar. It was wounded by Francis I. (of France) in his fury at the loss of the battle of Pavia.

When Napoleon I. was making the famous road from the Simplon, he caused the road to be turned, in order to spare this tree, which stood in the route as originally planned; in which the Emperor showed a better taste and feeling than the King.

A yew is recorded by de Candolles of Geneva, to have lived over 2580 years.

At the famous Ankerwyke yew, still extant, was the meeting place of Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn, when the fickle monarch poured his professions of love into her ear.

Under a yew at Cruxton Castle, Mary Queen of Scots consented, in an evil hour, to wed with Darnley; and in memory of the circumstance she caused a yew to be stamped on some of her coins. Poor Queen Mary's tree is dead, but a yew raised from one of its scions is living in the Botanic Gardens in Glasgow.

As a funereal tree we will append to it a few stanzas in harmony with its character:

IN MEMORIAM V. M.

M. E. M.

Thou art gone! thou art gone! Young, lov'd, and good, and brave! The eastern sun shines warmly on Thine honour'd early grave; There, where thy war-worn comrades bore thee, While deep-voic'd bugles wail'd before thee, The farewell volley thunder'd o'er theeA soldier's rites were thine. Yet more upon thy sword-cross'd bier From manhood's eye fast rain'd the tear; Yea, Valour's self wept sore to see How soon the cypress bough for thee Should round the laurel twine.

* In 1420.

Thou art dead! thou art dead!

Yet doth thy mem'ry live
Sweet as the odours lightly shed
That wither'd roses give.
For thee shall no dark tears be streaming,
But pure, calm, bright—as best beseeming
Thy dear remembrance, star-like beaming,
All cloudless and serene.

So hast thou liv'd, and so hast died;
We think of thee with grief and pride-
Pride, that thy name and blood was ours,
Grief, that thy days like gather'd flowers
So briefly fair have been.

Thou'rt lying lone and low:

Not where thy kindred lie:
Not where our native shamrocks grow
Green beneath Erin's sky.
But thou canst rest as calmly, sleeping
With Asia's violets round thee peeping,
Where Bosphorus, in sun-light leaping,
Laves Anatoli's shore.

Peace to thine ashes! Joy to thee,
Spirit! from mortal coil set free!
Go! meet thy sainted mother's love
In those eternal realms above,

Where death is known no more.

Do you not like the resinous scent of the young cones that rise among the stiff, narrow, blue-green leaves of this branch of PINE? (pinus sylves tris). It pleased the ancients so well, that they extracted the turpentine from it to strengthen their wine (a strange flavour it must have had); hence the pine-cone was used in the rites of Bacchus, and was placed on the end of the thyrsus.

This tree was sacred to Pluto, as an emblem of death; because when once cut down it does not shoot up again from the roots like other trees.

It was also sacred to Ceres, because she used its branches for torches when she was wandering night and day in search of her daughter Proserpine. And it was the peculiar tree of those hirsute rural deities, Pan and the Fauns, because its peculiar foliage bears some resemblance to goats' hair.

The poets sang that the nymph Pithys was beloved by both Pan and Boreas; but she slighted the latter for the former; and the rude Wind-God dashed her against a rock, and mangled her so cruelly, that Pan in compassion changed her into a pine-a tale which is but a play upon words, the name of the nymph signifying in Greek a pine.

Branches of this tree wreathed the brows of Cybele, in memory of her

favourite Atys, whom she turned, in a fit of jealousy, into a pine.

In the Isthmian games, celebrated at Corinth in honour of Neptune, the prize was at first a garland of pine, then a wreath of dry parsley was substituted; but subsequently the pine was resumed.

THE FALLEN PINE.

FROM THE GREEK OF ZELOTUS
Εκλαςθην επι γης ανέμω πιτυς-κ. τ. λ.

What me, the wind-struck-me, the prostrate
Pine!

Me woulds't thou send as ship to tempt the brine?

How could I brave at sea the tempest's roar," Who thus had suffer'd wreck on land before?

The congener of the pine, the LARCH (pinus larix) is more beautiful and graceful than the former. The Ro mans became acquainted with the larch during their wars in Germany, and introduced it into Italy, where its tim ber was much esteemed for strength and durability. On old larches in northern countries grows a valuable fungus, which is given medicinally in intermitting fevers. It is saponaceous, and used as soap by the Siberian women. The Tungusians draw from it a deep red dye.

The FIR (pinus picea) is used in those Roman Catholic countries where the palm does not grow, as a substitute for that Oriental tree, in the commemoration of Palm-Sunday. In Germany it is used for the favourite "Christmas Trees," bright with tapers and rich with gifts. From its verdure in all seasons it is an emblem of faithfulness.

THE FIR TREE.

FROM THE GERMAN.

("O Tannen baum, O Tannen baum ! Wie treu sind deine Blätter !") O friendly Fir, O changeless tree! Thy leaves are faithful ever: They live as fresh in winter's snow As e'en in summer's warmest glow. Green fir tree! type of constancy,

When fades thy verdure?-never!

O friendly Fir, O changeless tree,

I've lov'd thee long and dearly;
How oft on merry Christmas night
When thou wert wreath'd, and gay, and
bright,

I've gaz'd with joyous eyes on thee,
And hail'd thee so sincerely!

O friendly Fir, O changeless tree!
Thy leaves can teach us truly,
That hope and constancy impart
Strength, peace, and soothing to the heart,
Whate'er the hour, the season be-

Learn we the lesson duly.

Touch carefully the shining, but prickly leaves of the hardy HOLLY (ilex aquisslium). Though this is with us a religious tree, from its connexion with Christmas and the new year, its association with that season is older than Christianity. The ancient Romans considered it an auspicious tree, and sent sprigs of it with gifts, on the first day of the year, as symbolic of good-will. The origin of this custom is said to have been, that Tatius, the Sabine king, received as good augury on New Year's Day, a present of holly boughs cut in the Forest of the goddess Strenia, whose name comes from the obsolete word strenus, signifying good and happy ; and Tatius decreed that thenceforward that prickly tree should be dedicated to the new year, and accounted propitious. The temple of Strenia was near the Via Sacra, and from her name was formed Strenæ, new year's gifts, which the French wrote estrennes, and now etrennes.

The Romans dedicated the new year to Janus, the two-faced god, looking back to the past, and forward to the future. They sacrificed to him in new robes, whence the custom still existing of putting on something new on the first day of the year. They wished each other prosperity,* and avoided the utterance of words of evil augury. They did not, however, spend the festival in idleness, but worked a little at their usual business, that they might not be without occupation all the year. After the fall of paganism the new year's festivities were permitted to be retained, on the condition that all idolatrous observances should be abolished, that the feasts should be conducted with propriety, and the gifts should be considered only as tokens of mutual kindness. The holly and other evergreens were allowed to decorate the churches and houses as emblems of immortality. The etymology of holly is "holy," from its use in churches. Its name in German, Swe

dish, and Danish is "Christ dorn," i.e., Christmas thorn.

Evelyn had at Sayes Court, near Deptford, a magnificent hedge of holly, four hundred feet long, nine feet high, and two feet thick-and of this fine fence he was extremely fond. When that "splendid savage" Czar, Peter the Great, occupied Sayes Court by favour of the owner, his Imperial Ma jesty amused himself every morning in trundling a barrow through and through the hedge, and thus destroyed its beauty, to poor Evelyn's grief and dismay.

The armed and shining holly, with its bright red berries, is the handsome cognisance of the Clan Drummond.

As the holly is an "anniversary tree," we will connect with it a commemorative strain

ON AN ANNIVERSARY.

M. E. M.

With rolling seasons yet once more returned, O well-remembered night! belov'd and mourn'd,

All hail to thee! though at thy coming now
I feel a weight press on my pallid brow:
All hail! though former joy and present pain
Thou brings't to mingle in my aching brain.

Long time is past since fled the night that bears

Same date as thine, except, alas! in years. That night we met-it boots not who to say; We met who soon were sever'd-far awayWe met these words are mockery to the heart,

When those who meet are destin'd but to part.

That night we met in spacious crowded hall,
Illumin'd bright for joyous festival;
How little did I deem those hours of mirth
Should give to long and sad remembrance
birth;

That the blithe strain to which we danc'd the maze

Should echo like a dirge in future days.

That night now stands a monument of years, Where rests the mourner's eye suffused with

tears;

An era whence to mark each after-date:
A point of Time sad thoughts commemo-

rate

The natal night of feelings that will last Till with the heart that holds them life be past.

* "At cur læta tuis dicuntur verbis Calendis : Et damus alternas accipimusque preces."-OVID, Fasti,

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