The Rescue of an Old Place 



through all the dry weather. Their tassels 

 stood up straight and stiff, of a clean 

 bright green, and, though so unpromising 

 to start with, they will probably in the end 

 leave the others far behind. Even the 

 Hemlocks, so troublesome on the lawn, 

 thrive in this low and sheltered spot, where 

 we have finally sent the worst of them for 

 repairs. I have been told, by one who 

 knows, that what the Hemlock cannot 

 abide is the March sun, which does mis- 

 chief, while the blaze of summer is harm- 

 less to it. 



Hemlocks at I was shown one day at the Arnold 

 Arboretum. Arboretum, near Boston, the north side 

 of a hill, steep and rocky, but clothed with 

 giant Hemlocks from its lofty summit to 

 the burbling beck at its base. No nobler 

 sight can be imagined. I entered this 

 forest at twilight, and I found it a temple, 

 solemn and silent. The majestic trunks 

 rose from their rocky base at wide inter- 

 vals, climbing one above the other to the 

 crest of the lofty eminence they crowned. 

 Their close-knit branches far overhead 

 formed a dense canopy through which the 

 failing light came dimly, as befits a tem- 

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