THE BEECH. 31 



these soft moments could not recall to her his wandering affection, how 

 little, she expresses in this simple and pathetic allusion, can she hope 

 to recover it in any other way. The poplar was used for the same 

 purpose in ancient times, as we may gather from the lines that follow : 

 " There grows a poplar," she continues, " by the river-side (ah, I well 

 remember it ! ) on which is carved the motto of our love. Flourish, 

 thou poplar ! fed by the bordering stream, whose furrowed bark bears 

 this inscription ' Sooner shall Xanthus return to his source, than 

 Paris be able to live without CEnone.' " By comparison, these things 

 are trifles : to some they may seem silly, and not worth the citation, 

 But to a heart that loves to contemplate the sweet simplicities of 

 nature, and how little change the lapse of time promotes in all that 

 concerns human affections and human sympathies, such records are 

 dear. In these tender lines, as much as in any of the simple narratives 

 of the Old Testament, we see that the passions and the events of 

 to-day, the fidelities and the inconstancies, the lettered beech and the 

 poplar by the river, are the same old and long-past ones over again. 

 Human life and nature are everywhere like the waterfalls among the 

 Alps, sparkle, and teardrops, and rainbows whenever we look, though 

 the stream is never the same for a single instant. 



Early in the spring the beech seems everywhere armed with little 

 brown spikes. These are the buds, which in tke peculiarity of their 

 shape differ from those of every other British forest-tree. They are 

 formed at the close of the previous autumn, and though during the 

 winter the increase in size is scarcely perceptible, there appears to be 

 still a slow progression. One of the most beautiful and suggestive 

 phenomena in connection with tree-life is this early commencement 

 of Spring. For while the almanac states March or April to be the 

 beginning, and while our own first impressions seem to confirm it, in 

 truth the beginning of Spring is many months before. Just as on a 

 sweet summer's night, before the last glow of the sunset has quite 

 departed, Aurora peeps from the east, so at the close of summer, if we 

 look sharp, we may find indications on every hand, that a new season 

 of life and energy is in reserve, and beginning even now. The buds 

 of the hedgerow willows are swollen, and often shining and silvery with 

 the soft white silk that wraps their contents ; the alder-trees and the 

 hazels are hung with the green rudiments of their intended catkins ; 

 every musician has his instrument ready, and waits only to see the 

 lifted hand that shall give the signal. All things begin farther back 

 than we are apt to suppose ; nature's cradles, like those of wicker, 



