ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 



Canoe Birch, whose white wood you see in spools and shoe pegs. It gives up its beauti- 

 ful white dress without any injury to itself. Longfellow has made us a celebrated family 

 in Hiawatha. He says of us: 



" Give me of your bark, O Birch tree ! " 



(From "The Story of Hiawatha." See Index.) 



White Oak. Let us hear from the Elms. 



American Elm (Lida). I have been called the Queen of the Forest, and stand without 

 a rival at the head of the list of ornamental deciduous leaved trees. I claim this rank on 

 account of hardiness, rapid growth, and the graceful and majestic beauty of my drooping 

 branches. We are very proud of our Massachusetts relative under whose venerable 

 shade Washington first took command of the Continental army, July 3, 1775. How the 

 affection of every lover of his country clings around that tree! What care has been 

 taken of it, what marks of esteem have been shown it by the citizens of Cambridge, may 

 be judged by those who have seen it standing, as it does, in the center of a great public 

 thoroughfare, its trunk protected by an iron fence from injury by passingvehicles, which 

 for more than a century have turned out in deference to this monarch of the Revolution. 



Red Elm (Claude). I am well known for my durable red wood and mucilaginous 

 bark and am often called '* Slippery Elm." My sister, Rock Elm, is a fine tree with 

 corky branches, and the wood is valuable for farm implements. 



Hackberry (Otis). I am one of the poor cousins of the Elms, and am little known. I 

 am sometimes called the Nettle tree, and I am afraid Michigan people are not on speak- 

 ing terms with me. Allow me to tell you about my German relative, the Luther Elm, 

 near Worms. It is said to have been planted as follows: A bigoted old Catholic lady, 

 thrusting a stick in the ground, declared her resolution not to accept the new faith til! 

 that dry stick became green. The fact that it did so proved the interest taken by trees 

 in the preservation of orthodoxy. 



Red Mulberry (Robert). I am another obscure cousin of the Elms and not often seen 

 in Michigan. The birds are fond of my berries and the wood is as valuable as cedar for 

 posts. Let me praise the Elm. 



" Hail to the Elm ! the brave old Elm ! 



Our last lone forest tree, 

 Whose limbs outstand the lightning's brand, 



For a brave old Elm is he ! 



For fifteen score of full-told years, 



He has borne his leafy prime, 



Yet he holds them well, and lives to tell 



His tale of the olden time ! " 



White Oak. Let us all repeat the lines of N. S. Dodge in praise of the Queen of the 

 Forest. 



"Then hail to the Elm ! the green-topp'd Elm ! 



And long may his branches wave, 

 For a relic is he, the gnarl'd old tree, 

 Of the times of the good and brave." 



White Oak. We will have another song about the birds (or any other subject). 



White Oak. We have heard nothing from the Willows. 



Willow (Marion). I live near the water and my wood is made into the strangest things, 

 artificial limbs, tooth-picks, ball clubs and gunpowder. Some' of us are called "Pussy 

 Willows." 



Elizabeth Allen has written this lovely poem to my sister, the Weeping Willow of 

 Europe, who has been for years mourning something to us unknown. 



" O, Willow, why forever weep, 



As one who mourns an endless wrong ? 

 What hidden woe can lie so deep ? 



What utter grief can last so long ? 

 Mourn on forever, unconsoled, 



And keep your secret, faithful tree 

 No heart in all the world can hold 



A sweeter grace than constancy." 



The Poplar (Cara). There are five sisters of us Poplars who live in Michigan. One is 

 called Cotton Wood, and two are called Aspens. We are cousins of the Willows and all 

 belong to the Willow family. I will read some lines of the poets: 



" Why tremble so, broad Aspen-tree ? 

 Why shake thy leaves ne'er ceasing ? 

 At rest thou never seem'st to be, 



For when the air is still and dear, 

 Or when the nipping gale, increasing, 



Shakes from thy boughs soft twilight's tear, 

 Thou tremblest still, broad Aspea-treo, 

 And never tranquil seem'st to be." 



