solitary willow that has a story
attached to it. It was the only tree in the settlement--think what a
place that must have been!--except those the missionary had planted in
his own garden, and it would never have existed but for the laziness of
its owner. Nothing would have induced any of the natives to take the
trouble to plant a tree, and therefore the willow had not been planted.
But it happened, a long-time ago, that a native had fetched a log of
wood from a distance, to make into a bowl when he should feel in the
humor to do so. He threw the log into a pool of water, and soon forgot
all about it. Weeks and months passed, and he never felt in the humor to
work. But the log of wood set to work of its own accord. It had been cut
from a willow, and it took root at the bottom of the pool and began to
grow. In the end it became a handsome and flourishing tree."
This story was approved by the young audience, except that it was too
short; but their governess laughingly said that, as there was nothing
more to tell, it could not very well be any longer.
[Illustration: THE WEEPING WILLOW (_Salix Babylonica_).]
"The weeping willow," continued Miss Harson, "was first planted in
England in not so lazy a way, but almost as accidentally. Many years ago
a basket of figs was sent from Turkey to the poet Pope, and the basket
was made of willow. Willows and their cousins the poplars are natives of
the East; you remember that the one hundred and thirty-seventh psalm
says of the captive Jews, 'By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down,
yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the
willows in the midst thereof.' 'The poet valued highly the small slender
twigs, as associated with so much that was interesting, and he untwisted
the basket and planted one of the branches in the ground. It had some
tiny buds upon it, and he hoped he might be able to rear it, as none of
this species of willow was known in England. Happily, the willow is very
quick to take root and grow. The little branch soon became a tree, and
drooped gracefully over the river in the same manner that its race had
done over the waters of Babylon. From that one branch all the weeping
willows in England are descended.'"
"And then they were brought over here," said Malcolm. "But what odd
leaves they have, Miss Harson!--so narrow and long. They don't look like
the leaves of other trees."
"The leaf is somewhat like that of the olive, only that of t
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