THE BEECH 111 
As the tree grows, the letters engraved upon it 
grow also. As Ovid says:— 
“Incise servant a te mea nomina fagi, 
Et legor Ginone, falce notata tua; 
Et quantum trunci, tantum mea nomina crescunt.” 
(“The Beeches, faithful guardians of your flame, 
Bear on their wounded trunks Cinone’s name ; 
And as the trunks, so still the letters grow.”) 
The annual growth of bark strives to hide the 
wound of the knife, and ultimately the inscribed 
name will become buried in the heart of the old 
tree, to remain ages after that of the lover shall 
have ceased to beat. 
It is in autumn, however, that the beauty of 
the Beech stands pre-eminent. As Dr. Edwin Lees 
has eloquently put it, “The autumnal splendour 
of every other tree fades before that of the Beech, 
which continues the longest of all, and under par- 
ticular circumstances is of the most brilliant 
description. This arises from its lucid leaves, which 
vary in hue from auburn to gold colour and 
umber, reflecting back the level rays of the 
descending sun, and thus burning with  pre- 
eminent lustre, like-a sudden illumination. Blazing 
characters irradiate the grove wherever the Beech 
presents, in spectral pomp, its vivid outline; and 
if a passing rain-cloud, shrouding for a moment the 
zree-tops, bear upon its purple breast the glowing 
{ris, with one limb intermingled with the golden 
foliage, the splendid effect will long rest upon 
the memory of the spectator.” 
The light brown, hard, and moderately heavy 
