The Mountain Ashes 



north temperate forest neighbours, though it is rarely more 

 than 15 feet in height. Its open, pyramidal head gives each 

 leaf a chance. After the leaves have fallen, the twigs still hold 

 up their broad discs of scarlet berries that cling until winter is 

 well past. 



The Rowan Tree or European mountain ash (Sorhus Aucu- 

 paria, Linn.) is the one people usually plant on their lawns in this 

 country. This trim, round-headed tree is very conventional and 

 well-behaved compared with its country cousins back in the hills. 

 Long discipline at the gardener's hands has made it what it is. In 

 the craggy highlands of Scotland and Wales it leads a wild life, 

 and is there quite different from the familiar garden tree. Strange 

 legends and superstitions, centuries old, cluster around the rowan 

 in all rural sections of Europe. They are preserved in the folk- 

 lore and the literature of many languages. The tree, its berries, a 

 leafy spray, or a bit of its wood — all were considered to be effectual 

 charms to exorcise evil spirits, and to undo their work. The rowan 

 was planted at the gates of churchyards, and by cottage doors; 

 and leafy twigs were hung over the thresholds. Crosses of " roan " 

 wood, given out on festival days, were worn as amulets, and were 

 tacked up over the doors of houses and barns. Milkmaids, espe- 

 cially, depended on them for the defeat of the "black elves" who 

 tried to make their cows go dry, and, unless prevented, got 

 into the churns, and then the butter would never come! We 

 shall look upon this pretty tree with new interest, and perhaps 

 a mild kind ot awe, knowing how it has been regarded by our 

 ancestors. 



It may be known at any season by the woolly fuzz that whitens 

 buds, twigs and the Hnings of leaves. The leaflets are small, dull 

 green, with blunt points, and the margins have double teeth, large 

 and small. The flowers and fruits are larger than those of our 

 native species, and more showy. 



Mountain ash berries at best are a poor, insipid sort of fruit. 

 But as they hang on the trees very late, birds eat them with 

 apparent satisfaction. During periods of deep snow, these trees 

 are often the sole reliance of our hardy winter residents — the one 

 bar between them and starvation. 



The farther north a tree can grow, the more likely it is to have 

 near relatives in the Old World. One mountain asl of Japan can 

 be distinguished only with difficulty from our own; and some 



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