1966 ARBORETUM AND FRUTICETUM. PART III. 
supposed the shade of the beech to be as wholesome, as that of the walnut 
was the reverse. 
The purple beech, and the other varieties, are trees of singularity, which 
produce a striking effect when judiciously introduced among other scenes 
composed of foreign trees, and mark in an especial manner, wherever they are 
seen, the hand of art and refinement. 
For the picturesque Properties of the Beech, we shall resort to our usual au- 
thority,Gilpin. “After timber trees,” this author observes, “the beech deserves 
our notice. Some, indeed, rank the beech among timber trees; but, I believe, 
in general it does not find that respect, as its wood is of a soft spongy nature, 
sappy, and alluring to the worm. In point of picturesque beauty, I am not 
inclined to rank the beech much higher than in point of utility. Its skeleton, 
compared with that of the trees we have just examined, is very deficient. Its 
trunk, we allow, is often highly picturesque. It is studded with bold knobs 
and projections, and has sometimes a sort of irregular fluting about it, which 
is very characteristic. It has another peculiarity, also, which is sometimes 
pleasing, —that of a number of stems arising from the root. The bark, too, 
wears often a pleasing hue. It is naturally of a dingy olive; but it is always 
overspread, in patches, with a variety of mosses and lichens, which are com- 
monly of a lighter tint in the upper parts, and of a deep velvet green towards 
the root. Its smoothness, also, contrasts agreeably with those rougher appen- 
dages. No bark tempts the lover so much to ‘make it the depository of his 
mistress’s name. It conveys a happy emblem:—‘ Crescent ill; crescetis 
amores.’ In a chequered grove, we sometimes see very beautiful effects pro- 
duced by the brilliant sparkling lights which are caught by the stems of beeches : 
but, having praised the trunk, we can praise no other part of the skeleton. 
The branches are fantastically wreathed, and disproportioned, twining awk- 
wardly among each other, and running often into long unvaried lines, without 
any of that strength and firmness which we admire in the oak, or of that easy 
simplicity which pleases us in the ash: in short, we rarely see a beech well 
ramified. In full leaf, it is equally unpleasing: it has the appearance of an 
overgrown bush. Virgil, indeed, was right in choosing the beech for its shade: 
no tree forms so complete a roof. If you wish either for shade or shelter, 
you will find it best ‘patulz sub tegmine fagi.’ This bushiness gives a great 
heaviness to the tree, which is always a deformity. What lightness it has 
disgusts.. You will sometimes see a light branch issuing from a heavy mass ; 
and, though such pendent branches are often beautiful in themselves, they are 
seldom in harmony with the tree. They distinguish, however, its character, 
which will be seen best by comparing it with the elm. The elm forms a 
rounder, the beech a more pointed, foliage ; but the former is always in har- 
mony with itself. Sometimes, however, we see in beeches of happy com- 
position the foliage falling in large flocks, or layers, elegantly determined ; 
between which the shadows have a very forcible effect, especially when the 
tree is strongly illumined. On the whole, however, the massy, full-grown, 
luxuriant beech is rather a displeasing tree. It is made up of littlenesses, 
seldom exhibiting those tufted cups, or hollow dark recesses, which disport in 
the several grand branches of the beautiful kind of trees. Contrary to the 
general nature of trees, the beech is most pleasing in its juvenile state, as it 
has not yet acquired that heaviness which is its most faulty distinction. A 
light, airy, young beech, with its spiry branches hanging, as I have just de- 
scribed them, in easy forms, is often beautiful. I have seen, also, the forest 
beech, in a dry hungry soil, preserve the lightness of youth in the maturity of 
age. After all, however, we mean not to repudiate even the heavy luxuriant 
beech in picturesque composition. It has sometimes its beauty, and oftener 
its use. In distance, it preserves the depth of the forest; and even on the 
spot, in contrast, it is frequently a choice accompaniment. We call a forest 
deep when we cannot see through it; so that, at a distance, a thin wood of 
beeches will have the effect of a large one. In the corner of a landscape, 
when we want a thick heavy tree, or a part of one at least, which is often 
