in China had a lovely and only daughter 

 named Lichi, who fell in love with a man 

 named Chang. This young man who 

 had been her father's secretary, lived on 

 a highly cultivated island much of which 

 had been reclaimed from the water. 

 Here he had built himself a cottage and 

 hoped some day to bring to it his bride, 

 the beautiful daughter of the mandarin. 

 This island and also the fine grounds 

 of the mandarin were bordered with 

 willows. One day the father heard 

 the two exchanging vows of love beneath 

 an orange tree which grew on his estate, 

 and he sternly forbade the unequal 

 match ; but the lovers contrived to elope 

 and lay concealed for a time in the gar- 

 dener's cottage, from which they made 

 their escape in a boat to the young lov- 

 er's island home. The enraged father 

 pursued them with a whip and would 

 have beaten them to death had not the 

 gods rewarded their fidelity by changing 

 them into turtle-doves. It is called the 

 'willow pattern' not only because it is a 

 tale of disastrous love, but because the 

 elopement occurred when the willow 

 trees which bordered their homes began 

 to shed their leaves." 



"I think that is rather sad. If I had 

 been the gods I would have turned the 

 cross, old father into a stick and had the 

 maiden and her lover living happy ever 

 after, as they say in story books." 



A livelier gust of wind than usual set 

 the willow leaves rustling, and in a dig- 

 nified voice which seemed quite out of 

 place to the graceful tree, it continued: 



"We, too, are an ancient family, for 

 remains of us are found in the cretaceous 

 rocks, and as for being numerous, our 

 family embraces one hundred and sixty 

 species, although we number only twen- 

 ty distinct branches. David referred to 

 us in his beautiful songs ; when the 

 Hebrews were led captive into a strange 

 land they sat themselves down by the 

 waters of Babylon and 'hanged their 

 harps on willow trees.' " 



"A Weeping Willow grows over my 

 grandmother's grave." 



"Then the Weeping Willow will be of 

 more interest tO' you, so I will tell you 

 the history of that relative first. It is a 

 native of Asia and it is said that its name 



was suggested by the continual lamenta- 

 tions of the Hebrews, although Thoreau 

 -—one of your men who went out into the 

 woods and built himself a shanty on the 

 margin of a little lake where he studied 

 Nature and her wonderful secrets, delv- 

 ing deep into her hidden mysteries — 

 says : 'It may droop — it is so little and 

 supple — but it never weeps. It droops, 

 not to represent David's tears, but rather 

 to snatch the crown from Alexander's 

 head.' " 



"If the Weeping Willow is a native of 

 Asia, how did it ever get over here?" 



"I'm coming to that. A package was 

 sent from Turkey to a Lady Suffolk in 

 England. It was bound with a number 

 of withes, one of which appeared quite 

 fresh. Curiosity prompted Pope to take 

 this withe and plant it in his villa at 

 Twickenham, where it grew to be a 

 beautiful tree and it is the ancestor of all 

 those which have since lived in America. 

 Pope loved this tree and after his death 

 so many of the admirers of this poet — 

 who though deformed and sickly, wrote 

 such beautiful verses that they still live 

 — came to gaze upon the tree that the 

 owner became annoyed and caused it to 

 be cut down. However, before this hap- 

 pened, a young British officer came to 

 America and brought with him, carefully 

 wrapped in oiled silk, a twig of the cele- 

 brated tree. This was given to a step- 

 son of General Washington, who planted 

 it near his home in Abingdon, Virginia. 

 This child of Pope's willow flourished in 

 an ahen soil and it is claimed that all 

 the Weeping Willows of our broad and 

 beautiful land are its children." 



"That is an interesting bit of history. 

 I wonder how it is that history is easier 

 learned in this way than by reading it in 

 books?" 



The Willow Tree did not seem to hear 

 her, no doubt he was thinking of the 

 different members of his family, and 

 Mabel, who was quietly enjoying the 

 novelty of her sylvan retreat, closed her 

 eyes as if in sleep, when a leaf fluttered 

 down upon her face. Its touch was so 

 gentle that she would not have noticed 

 it, if she had not heard a gentle rustling 

 of leaves, which seemed to shape them- 

 selves into words. 



