imes see in the tops of fir trees?
It is a kind of tree disease, some say tree cancer. At first they are
green, but they turn dead and dry by the second year, and may kill that
part of the tree. Often they are as large as a bushel basket. I saw one
once fully six feet in diameter, a dry globe of closely packed twigs."

We knew what he meant now, but we had never heard those singular growths
called "witches' brooms" before. Unlike mistletoe, the broom is not a
plant parasite, but a growth from the fir itself, like an oak gall, or a
gnarl on a maple or a yellow birch; but instead of being a solid growth
on the tree trunk, it is a dense, abnormal growth of little twigs on a
small bough of the fir, generally high up in the top.

The next day we went out along the borders of the farm wood lot and cut
the seven firs; then, thinking that there might be a sale for others, we
got enough more to make up a load for our trip to Portland.

While we were thus employed, Theodora and Ellen gathered the
"lion's-paw," on the knolls by the border of the pasture woods; and in
the afternoon we cut an immense bundle of holly along the wall by the
upper field.

Holly is a word of many meanings; but in Maine what is called holly is
the winterberry, a deciduous shrub that botanists rank as a species of
alder. The vivid red berries are very beautiful, and resemble coral.

All the while we had been on the lookout for witches' brooms. In the
swamp beyond the brook we found six, only two of which were perfect
enough to use as decorations; at first we were a little doubtful of
being able to fill this part of the order. There was one place, however,
where we knew they could be found, and that was in the great fir swamp
along Lurvey's Stream, on the way up to the hay meadows. Addison
mentioned it at the supper table that evening; but the distance was
fully thirteen miles; and at first we thought it hardly worth while to
go so far for a dozen witches' brooms, for which the Sunday school would
probably be unwilling to pay more than fifty cents apiece.

"And yet," Addison remarked, "if this Sunday school wants a dozen, other
schools may want some after they see them. What if we go up and get
seventy-five or a hundred, and take them along with the rest of our
load? They may sell pretty well. Listen: 'Witches' brooms for your
Christmas tree! Very sylvan! Very odd! Something new and unique! Only
fifty cents apiece! Buy a broom! Buy a witches' broom!'"