NAPOLEON WILLOWS 



Other weeping willows have been grown in America from cut- 

 tings taken from a tree of that species which shaded Napoleon's grave 

 on St. Helena. It was his custom to sit beneath a weeping willow 

 there, perhaps brooding over his misfortunes, and oddly enough, the 

 tree was destroyed by a storm, about the time of his death. Madame 

 Bertrand, a close friend, planted several cuttings from the willow 

 beside the railing surrounding his tomb, and slips from these trees 

 have been brought from time to time, to this country. 



One of the descendants of the Napoleon willows which, for nearly 

 half a century has beautified the Phillips estate in Newark, N. J., has 

 been described by Mr. Carl Bannwart as "the archbishop of this green 

 diocese of Phillips Park." The tree was brought to John Morris 

 Phillips, owner of the estate, which he has presented to Newark as 

 a city park, by a friend, who cut it from one of the original trees on 

 St. Helena, knowing Mr. Phillips' fondness both for trees and for 

 any relics associated with Napoleon. Unfortunately, the historic 

 willow shows signs of decay, and has so far failed to respond to the 

 efforts of tree surgeons. 



Another Napoleon willow was brought from St. Helena, about 

 seventy years ago, by the late John T. Brown, of Providence, R. I. 

 When the tree was well grown, he gave a slip from it to a relative in 

 Wisconsin, and later transplanted back to Providence a slip from the 

 Wisconsin tree, which had become strong and sturdy. This great- 

 grandchild of the willow on St. Helena is now flourishing in Provi- 

 dence, and a cutting from it has been planted in Swan Point cemetery 

 there. 



On the shore of Lake Mendota, Madison, Wis., near the foot of 

 North Livingston Street, is a row of handsome willows grown from 

 cuttings that were brought by a sea captain from the grave of 

 Napoleon on St. Helena. 



THE INWOOD TULIP TREE 



The fine old tulip tree at the eastern base of Inwood Hill, on the 

 northern end of Manhattan Island, is considered Manhattan's oldest 

 tree. As its age is estimated to be two hundred and twenty-five years, 

 it was in its youth when Henry Hudson made his memorable voyage 

 of discovery on the river, and during the eventful years that followed, 

 the tree was a silent witness of many interesting developments. 



Standing on the shore of Spuyten Duyvil Creek, it recalls, among 

 other incidents, the lively career of Anthony Van Corlaer, the trump- 

 eter, a noted character of the days of Dutch occupation, when his 

 friend, Peter Stuyvesant, was Governor of New Netherlands before 

 the English had changed the name of the province to New York. It 

 was owing to Van Corlaer's escapades, according to the old legends 

 of the region, that both Anthony's Nose, a bluff in the Highlands of 

 the Hudson, and also Spuyten Duyvil Creek received their names. As 



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