78 TREES 



are magnificent though unsymmetrical trees, shaking out 

 each spring a new head of bright green, glossy f ohage, each 

 leaf responsive to the lightest breeze. 



"Necklace-bearing poplar," it has been called, from 

 the fact that children find pleasure in stringing for beads 

 the green, half-grown pods containing the minute seeds. 

 They also delight in gathering the long, red caterpillar- 

 like catkins of the staminate flowers, the pollen bearers, 

 from the sterile trees, A fertile tree is sometimes counted 

 a nuisance in a dooryard because its pods set free a great 

 mass of cotton that collects in window screens, to the 

 annoyance of housewives. But this seed time is soon over. 



Just these merits of quick growth, prettiness, and te- 

 nacity of life, belong to the Carolina Poplar, a variety of 

 native cottonwood that lines the streets of the typical 

 suburban tract opened near any American city. The 

 leaves are large and shine with a varnish which protects 

 them from dust and smoke. But the wind breaks the 

 branches, destroys the symmetry of the tree's head, and in 

 a few years the suburban community takes on a cheap and 

 ugly look. The wise promoter will alternate slow-growing 

 maples and elms with the poplars so that these permanent 

 trees will be ready to take their places in a few years. 



The Aspen 



P. tremvloides, Michx. 



The trembling aspen, or quaking asp, is the prettiest tree 

 of all the poplar tribe. Its bark is gray and smooth, often 

 greenish and nearly white. An aspen copse is one of the 

 loveliest things in the spring landscape. In March the 

 bare, angular limbs show green under their bark, one of the 



