220 THAT' 



others, a beautiful little creature, 

 covered with a cuirass of green 

 and gold, called the elm flea, from 

 its habit of leaping. These little 

 creatures are so lively, that 

 though a branch may appear 

 covered with them at one mo- 

 ment, the next they have all 

 vanished.* 



Several beetles and moths will 

 also be found inhabiting elms — 

 some under the bark, others 

 among the leaves and branches, 

 others amid the ramifications of 

 the roots. Such creatures have 

 frequently been found deeply 

 embedded in the substance of 

 these trees. Probably they crept 

 at the approach of winter into 

 some crack or opening in the 

 bark, and from thence into a 

 hollow in the trunk. On waking 

 from their winter's sleep, they 

 found themselves surrounded by 

 some newly-formed wood, from 

 which they could not escape ; 

 and this continuing to increase 

 around them, they found em- 

 phatically a 44 living tomb." Fo- 

 reign substances have also been 

 found deeply sunk into the inner 

 bark ; names deeply cut, in years 

 long past, have suddenly come to 

 light, and rings and coins have 

 suddenly rebounded from the 

 hatchet of the wood-cutter.f 



The following beautiful lines 

 upon the felling of a tree, are 

 by the late Thomas Hood 



The woodman's heart is in his work, 



His axe is sharp and good ; 

 With steady arm and steady aim, 

 He smites the gaping wood j 

 From distant rocks, 

 His lusty knocks 

 Re-echo many a rood. 



* Loudon's Trees and Shrubs- 



t lloberts's Voices from the Woodlands. 



'S IT; 



His axe is keen, his arm is strong, 



The muscles serve him well • 

 His years have reached an extra span, 



The number none can tell ; 

 But still his life-long task has been 

 The timber- tree to fell. 



Alone he works— his ringing blows 

 Have banished bird and bciat ; 



The hind and fawn have cantered off, 

 A hundred yards at least ; 



And, on the maple's lofty top, 

 The linnet's song has ceased. 



No eye his labour overlooks, 



Or when he takes his rest ; 

 Except the timid thrush, that peeps 



Above her secret nest — 

 Forbid by love to leave the young 



Beneath her speckled breast. 



No rustic song is on his tongue, 



No whistle on his lips ; 

 But, with a quiet though tfulness, 



His trusty tool he grips, 

 And, stroke on stroke, keeps hacking out 



The bright and flying chips. 



Stroke after stroke, with frequent dint, 



He spreads the fatal gash ; 

 Till, lo ! the remnant fibres rend, 



With harsh and sudden crash ; 

 And on the dull resounding turf, 



The jarring branches lash! 



Oh ! now, the forest-trees may sigh : 



Tne ash, the poplar tall, 

 The elm, the birch, the drooping beech, 

 The aspens one and all, 

 With solemn groan, 

 And hollow moan, 

 Lament a comrade's fall ! 



As a contrast with the trees 

 already enumerated, we may 

 mention the laurels or bays, the 

 species consisting chiefly of trees, 

 with some shrubs, natives of 

 Asia and North America, and 

 one of them of the South of 

 Europe. The common laurel and 

 the Portugal laurel are invaluable 

 for giving effect to our groves, 

 by their sparkling glazed leaves, 

 especially in winter. The lau- 

 rels derive their name from laus, 

 praise, in reference to the ancient 

 custom of crowning the Roman 

 conquerors with wreaths of the 

 leaves. They are among the 

 most generally prized evergreens. 

 Most of them possess medical 

 properties in a high degree. The 



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