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 268 Among the Trees. [September, of human happiness and of comfort to the inferior animals of which it has been the blessed instrument. How many a happy assemblage of children and young per- sons has been, during the past century, repeatedly gathered under its shade, in the sultry noons of summer ! How many a young May-queen has been crowned under its roof, when the greensward was just daisied with the early flowers of spring ! And how many a weary travel- ler has rested from his journey in its be- nevolent shade, and from a state of wea- riness and vexation, when o'erspent by heat and length of way, has subsided in- to one of quiet thankfulness and con- tent ! Though the Elm has never been con- secrated by the Muse, or dignified by making a figure in the paintings of the old masters, the native inhabitant of New England associates its varied forms with all that is delightful in the scenery of his own land or memorable in its histo- ry. He has beheld many a noble avenue formed of Elms, when standing in rows in the village, or by the rustic road-side. He has seen them extending their broad and benevolent arms as a protection over many a spacious old farm-house and many an humble cottage, and equally harmoniz- ing with all. They meet his sight in the public grounds of the city, with their am- ple shade and flowing spray, inviting him to linger under their pleasant umbrage in summer ; and in winter he has beheld them among the rude hills and mountains, like spectral figures keeping sentry among their passes, and, on the waking of the year, suddenly transformed into towers of luxuriant verdure and beauty. Every year of his life has he seen the beau- tiful Hang-Bird weave his pensile habi- tation upon the long and flexible branch- es of the Elm, secure from the reach of every living creature. From its vast dome of interwoven branches and fo- liage he has listened to the songs of the earliest and the latest birds ; and under its shelter he has witnessed many a merry- making assemblage of children, employed in the sportive games of summer. To a native of New Eno-land, there- O ' fore, the Elm has a value more nearly approaching that of sacredness than any other tree. Setting aside the pleasure derived from it as an object of visual beauty, it is intimately associated with the familiar scenes of home and the events of his early life. In my own mind it is pleasingly allied with those old dwelling- houses which were built in the early part of the last century, and form one of the marked features of New England home architecture during that period. They are known by their broad and am- ple, but low-studded rooms, their numer- ous windows with small panes, their sin- gle chimney in the centre of the roof that sloped down to the lower story in the back part, and in their general unpre- tending appearance, reminding one vivid- ly of that simplicity of life which charac- terized our people before the Revolution. Their very homeliness is delightful, by leaving the imagination free to dwell up- on their pleasing suggestions. Not many w of these charming old houses are now extant: but whenever we see one, we are almost sure to find it accompanied by its Elm, standing upon the green open space that slopes up to it in front, and waving its long branches in melancholy grandeur over the venerable habitation which it seems to have taken under its protection, while it droops with sorrow over the infirmities of its old companion of a century. The Elm is remarkable for the variety of forms which it assumes in different sit- uations. Often it has a drooping spray on- ly when it has attained a large size ; but it almost invariably becomes subdivided in- to several equal branches, diverging from a common centre, at a considerable ele- vation from the ground. One of these forms is that of a vase : the base being represented by the roots of the tree that project above the soil and join the trunk, the middle by the lower part of the principal branches, as they swell out with a graceful curve, then gradually diverge, until they bend downward and form the lip of the vase, by their circle of terminal