Chapter 8

My friend Professor Bailey says _Platanus occidentalis_, which is the truly right name of this tree, has no title to the term sycamore; it is properly, as his Cyclopedia gives it, Buttonwood, or Plane. Hunting about a little among tree books, I find the reason for this, and that it explains another name I have never understood. The sycamore of the Bible, referred to frequently in the Old Testament, traditionally mentioned as the tree under which Joseph rested with Mary and the young child on the way to Egypt, and into which Zaccheus climbed to see what was going on, was a sort of fig tree--"Pharaoh's Fig," in fact. When the mystery-plays of the centuries gone by were produced in Europe, the tree most like to what these good people thought was the real sycamore furnished the branches used in the scene-setting--and it was either the oriental plane, or the sycamore-leaved maple that was chosen, as convenient. The name soon attached itself to the trees; and when homesick immigrants looked about the new world of America for some familiar tree, it was easy enough to see a great similarity in our buttonwood, which thus soon became sycamore.

So much for information, more or less legendary, I confess; but the great tree we are discussing is very tangible. Indeed, it is always in the public eye; for it carries on a sort of continuous disrobing performance! The snake sheds his skin rather privately, and comes forth in his new spring suit all at once; the oak and the maple, and all the rest of them continually but invisibly add new bark between the splitting or stretching ridges of the old; but our wholesome friend the sycamore is quite shamelessly open about it, dropping off a plate or a patch here and there as he grows and swells, to show us his underwear, which thus at once becomes overcoat, as he goes on. At first greenish, the under bark thus exposed becomes creamy white, mostly; and I have had a conceit that the colder the winter, the whiter would be those portions of Mr. Buttonball's pajamas he cared to expose to us the next spring!

The leaves of the sycamore are good to look at, and efficient against the sun. The color above is not as clear and sharp as that of the maple; underneath the leaves are whitish, and soft, or "pubescent," as the botanical term goes. Quite rakishly pointed are the tips, and the whole effect, in connection with the balls,--which are first crowded clusters of flowers, and then just as crowded clusters of seeds--is that of a gentleman of the old school, dignified in his knee-breeches and cocked hat, fully aware that he is of comfortable importance!

Those little button-balls that give name to this good American tree follow the flower clusters without much change of form--they _were_ flowers, they _are_ seeds--and they stay by the tree persistently all winter, blowing about in the sharp winds. After a while one is banged often enough to open its structure, and then the carrying wind takes on its wings the neat little cone-shaped seeds, each possessed of its own silky hairs to help float it gently toward the ground--and thus is another of nature's curious rounds of distribution completed.

A tree is never without interest to those whose eyes have been opened to some of the wonders and perfections of nature. Nevertheless, there is a time in the year's round when each tree makes its special appeal. It may be in the winter, when every twig is outlined sharply against the cold sky, and the snow reflects light into the innermost crevices of its structure, that the elm is most admirable. When the dogwood has on its white robe in May and June, it then sings its song of the year. The laden apple tree has a pure glory of the blossoms, and another warmer, riper glory of the burden of fruit, but we think most kindly of its flowering time. Some trees maintain such a continuous show of interest and beauty that it is difficult to say on any day, "_Now_ is this tulip or this oak at its very finest!" Again, the spring redness of the swamp maple is hardly less vivid than its mature coloring of the fall.

But as to the liquidambar, or sweet-gum, there can be no question. Interesting and elegant the year round, its autumn covering of polished deep crimson starry leaves is so startlingly beautiful and distinct as to almost take it out of comparison with any other tree. Others have nearly the richness of color, others again show nearly the elegance of leaf form, but no one tree rivals completely the sweet-gum at the time when the autumn chill has driven out all the paleness in its leaf spectrum, leaving only the warm crimson that seems for awhile to defy further attacks of frost.

As to shape, the locality settles that; for, a very symmetrical small to maximum-sized tree in the North and on high dry places, in the South and in wet places north it becomes another "tree of the first magnitude," wide-spreading and heavy. A stellar comparison seems to fit, because of these wonderful leaves. They struck me at first, hunting photographs one day, as some sort of a maple; but what maple could have such perfection of star form? A maple refined, perfected, and indeed polished, one might well think, for while other trees have shining leaves, they are dull in comparison with the deep-textured gloss of these of the sweet-gum.

Here, too, is a tree for many places; an adaptable, cosmopolitan sort of arboreal growth. At its full strength of hard, solid, time-defying wooded body on the edge of some almost inaccessible swamp of the South, where its spread-out roots and ridgy branches earn for it another common name as the "alligator tree," it is in a park or along a private driveway at the North quite the acme of refined tree elegance, all the summer and fall. It takes on a rather narrow, pyramidal head, broadening as it ages, but never betraying kin with its fellow of the swamp, save perhaps when winter has bared its peculiar winged and strangely "corky" branches.

These odd branches bear, on some trees particularly, a noticeable ridge, made up of the same substance which in the cork-oak of Europe furnishes the bottle-stoppers of commerce. It makes the winter structure of the sweet-gum most distinct and picturesque, which appearance is accentuated by the interesting little seed-balls, or fruits, rounded and spiny, that hang long from the twigs. These fruits follow quickly an inconspicuous flower that in April or May has made its brief appearance, and they add greatly to the general attractiveness of the tree on the lawn, to my mind. Years ago I first made acquaintance with the liquidambar, as it ought always to be called, one wet September day, when an old tree-lover took me out on his lawn to see the rain accentuate the polish on the starry leaves and drip from the little many-pointed balls. I found that day that a camera would work quite well under an umbrella, and I obtained also a mind-negative that will last, I believe, as long as I can think of trees.

The next experience was in another state, where a quaint character, visited on business, struck hands with me on tree-love, and took me to see his pet liquidambar at the edge of a mill-pond. That one was taller, and quite stately; it made an impression, deepened again when the third special showing came, this time on a college campus, the young tree being naked and corky, and displayed with pride by the college professor who had gotten out of his books into real life for a joyous half day.

He wasn't the botany professor, if you please; that dry-as-dust gentleman told me, when I inquired as to what I might find in early bloom, or see with the eyes of an ignorant plant-lover, that there was "nothing blooming, and nothing of interest." He added that he had a fine herbarium where I might see all the plants I wanted, nicely dried and spread out with pins and pasters, their roots and all!

Look at _dead_ plants, their roots indecently exposed to mere curiosity, on a bright, living early April day? Not much! I told my trouble to the professor of agriculture, whose eyes brightened, as he informed me he had no classes for that morning, and--"We would see!" We _did_ see a whole host of living things outdoors,--flowers peeping out; leaves of the willows, just breaking; buds ready to burst; all nature waiting for the sun's call of the "grand entrée." It was a good day; but I pitied that poor old dull-eyed herbarium specimen of a botanical professor, in whose veins the blood was congealing, when everything about called on him to get out under the rays of God's sun, and study, book in hand if he wanted, the bursting, hurrying facts of the imminent spring.

But a word more about the liquidambar--the name by which I hope the tree we are discussing may be talked of and thought of. Old Linnæus gave it that name, because it described euphoniously as well as scientifically the fact that the sap which exudes from this fine American tree _is_ liquid amber. Now isn't that better than "gum" tree?

With trees in general as objects of interest, I have always felt a special leaning toward tropical trees, probably because they were rare, and indeed not to be seen outside of the conservatory in our Middle States. My first visit to Florida was made particularly enjoyable by reason of the palms and bananas there to be seen, and I have by no means lost the feeling of admiration for the latter especially. In Yucatan there were to be seen other and stranger growths and fruits, and the novelty of a great cocoanut grove is yet a memory not eclipsed by the present-day Floridian and Bahamian productions of the same sort.

It was, therefore, with some astonishment that I came to know, a few years ago, more of a little tree bearing a fruit that had been familiar from my boyhood, but which I was then informed was the sole northern representative of a great family of tropical fruits, and which was fairly called the American banana. The papaw it was; a fruit all too luscious and sweet, when fully ripe in the fall, for most tastes, but appealing strongly to the omnivorous small boy. I suppose most of my readers know its banana-like fruits, four or five inches long, green outside, but filled with soft and sweet aromatic yellow pulp, punctuated by several fat bean-like seeds.

But it is the very handsome and distinct little tree, with its decidedly odd flowers, I would celebrate, rather than the fruits. This tree, rather common to shady places in eastern America as far north as New York, is worth much attention, and worth planting for its spreading richness of foliage. The leaves are large, and seem to carry into the cold North a hint of warmth and of luxuriant growth not common, by any means--I know of only one other hardy tree, the cucumber magnolia, with an approaching character. The arrangement of these handsome papaw leaves on the branches, too, makes the complete mass of regularly shaped greenery that is the special characteristic of this escape from the tropics; and, since I have seen the real papaw of the West Indies in full glory, I am more than ever glad for the handsomer tree that belongs to the regions of cold and vigor.

The form of our papaw, or _Asimina triloba_--the botanical name is rather pleasing--is noticeable, and as characteristic as its leafage. See these side branches, leaving the slender central stem with a graceful up-curve, but almost at once swinging down, only to again curve upward at the ends! Are they not graceful? Such branches as these point nature's marvelous engineering, to appreciate which one needs only to try to imagine a structure of equal grace and efficiency, made with any material of the arts. How awkward and clumsy steel would be, or other metal!

Along these swinging curved branches, as we see them in the April winds, there appear hints of the leaf richness that is to come--but something else as well. These darkest purple-red petals, almost black, as they change from the green of their opening hue, make up the peculiar flowers of the papaw. There is gold in the heart of the flower, not hid from the bees, and there is much of interest for the seeker for spring knowledge as well; though I advise him not to smell the flowers. Almost the exact antithesis of the dogwood is the bloom of this tree; for, both starting green when first unfolded from the buds, the papaw's flowers advance through browns and yellows, dully mingled, to the deep vinous red of maturity. The dogwood's final banner of white is unfolded through its progress of greens, about the same time or a little later.

A pleasant and peculiar small tree is this papaw, not nearly so well known or so highly esteemed as it ought to be.

Another tree with edible fruits--but here there will be a dispute, perhaps!--is the persimmon. I mean the American persimmon, indissolubly associated in our own Southland with the darky and the 'possum, but also well distributed over Eastern North America as far north as Connecticut. The botanical name of the genus is Diospyros, liberally translated as "fruit of the gods," or "Jove's fruit." If his highness of Olympus was, by any chance, well acquainted with our 'simmon just before frost, he must have had a copper-lined mouth, to choose it as his peculiar fruit!

Making a moderate-sized tree of peculiar and pleasing form, its branches twisting regardless of symmetry, the persimmon in Pennsylvania likes the country roadsides, especially along loamy banks. Here it has unequaled opportunity for hanging out its attractively colored fruits. As one drives along in early fall, just before hard frost, these fine-looking little tomato-like globes of orange and red are advertised in the wind by the absence of the early dropping foliage. They look luscious and tempting; indeed, they _are_ tempting! Past experience--you need but one--had prepared me for this "bunko" fruit; but my friend would not believe me, one day in early October--he must taste for himself. Taste he did, and generously, for the first bite is pleasing, and does not alarm, wherefore he had time, before his insulted nerves of mouth and tongue gave full warning, to absorb two of the 'simmons. Whew! What a face he made when the puckering juice got to work, and convinced him that he had been sucking a disguised lump of alum. Choking and gasping, he called for the water we were far from; and _he_ won't try an unfrosted persimmon again!

My clerical friend who brought home the fairy tale about the red-bud, or Judas-tree, might well have based his story on the American persimmon, but for the fact that this puckery little globe, so brilliant and so deceptive before frost, loses both its beauty and its astringency when slightly frozen. Then its tender flesh is suave and delicious, and old Jove might well choose it for his own.

But the tree--that is a beauty all summer, with its shining leaves, oblong, pointed and almost of the magnolia shape. It will grace any situation, and is particularly one of the trees worth planting along highways, to relieve the monotony of too many maples, ashes, horse-chestnuts and the like, and to offer to the passer-by a tempting fruit of which he will surely not partake too freely when it is most attractive. I read that toward the Western limit of its range the persimmon, in Louisiana, Eastern Kansas and the Indian Territory, becomes another tree of the first magnitude, towering above a hundred feet. This would be well worth seeing!

There is another persimmon in the South, introduced from Japan, the fruits of which are sold on the fruit-stands of Philadelphia, Boston and New York. This, the "kaki" of Japan, is a small but business-like tree, not substantially hardy north of Georgia, which provides great quantities of its beautiful fruits, rich in coloring and sweet to the taste, and varying greatly in size and form in its different varieties. These 'simmons do not need the touch of frost, nor do they ever attain the fine, wild, high flavor of the frost-bitten Virginian fruits; the tree that bears them has none of the irregular beauty of our native persimmon, nor does it approach in size to that ornament of the countryside.

* * * * *

And now, in closing these sketches, I become most keenly sensible of their deficiencies. Purely random bits they are, coming from a busy man, and possessing the one merit of frankness. Deeply interested in trees, but lacking the time for continuous study, I have been turning my camera and my eyes upon the growths about me, asking questions, mentally recording what I could see, and, while thankful for the rest and the pleasure of the pursuit, always sorry not to go more fully into proper and scientific tree knowledge. At times my lack in this respect has made me ashamed to have written at all upon trees; but with full gratitude to the botanical explorers whose labors have made such superficial observations as mine possible, I venture to send forth these sketches, without pretension as to the statement of any new facts or features.

If anything I have here set down shall induce among those who have looked and read with me from nature's open book the desire to go more deeply into the fascinating tree lore that always awaits and inevitably rewards the effort, I shall cry heartily, "God-speed!"

Index

Illustrations are indicated by a prefixed asterisk (*). For botanical names, see page 239.

Acorn, beginning of, 27.

Alligator tree, 221.

Amelanchier, 205.

American trees in Europe, 133.

Apple blossoms, 75, 80.

Apple, beauty of fruiting branch, 91

Apple, Chinese flowering, 90.

Apple, Crab, 80.

Apple trees, fruiting, 93; in blossom, *81.

Apples, 73.

Apples, Ben Davis, Bellefleur, Baldwin, Early Harvest, Red Astrachan, 93; Rhode Island Greening, 76; Winesap, fruit, *75.

Apple orchard in winter, *78.

Apples, Crab, fruit-cluster, *73.

Apples, propagation of, 88.

Arnold Arboretum, 57, 89.

Aspen, American, 121.

Aspen, Large-toothed, 121.

Aspen, Trembling (poplar), 121.

Bailey, Prof. L. H., quoted, 125.

Balm of Gilead, 118.

Beech, American, *177, 178.

Beech, birth of leaves, 179.

Bill-boards, 179.

Birch-bark for fuel, 190.

Birch, Paper, 190.

Birch, Sweet, 188, *185, *191.

Birch, White, 193.

Birch, Yellow, 189, *192.

Butternut, 164.

Buttonball, *215.

Buttonwood, 214.

Cathedral Woods (pines), 68.

Cedar, White, 71.

Cherry, Wild, 176.

Chestnut, American Sweet, 166, *165.

Chestnut burs, *157.

Chestnut grove in fall, 168.

Chestnut, Sweet, blossoms, *167.

Chinquapin, 169, *170.

Cocoanut, 182.

Common names, 146.

Cones of the pines, 64.

Cornus sericea, 200.

Cottonwood (poplar), 125.

Crab-apple, 80; Floribunda, 92; Parkman's, 88; Siberian, 89; Spectabilis, *84.

Crab-apple, Wild, 85.

Crab-apples, Chinese and Japanese, 88; Ringo, Kaido, Toringo, 93.

Crab, Wild, 83.

Crab, Soulard, 86.

Crab, Wild, fruit, *87.

Cypress, 72.

Diospyros, 229.

Dogwood berries, *187.

Dogwood, Blue-berried, 200.

Dogwood, White, 197, *199.

Elkwood, 20.

Elm and the Tulip, 131.

Elm, American, *ix, 134, *136, 137, 139.

Elm at Capitol Park, 141.

Elm, English, 142; *143.

Elm lawn, 138.

Elm, Slippery, 142; seed-pods, *131.

Elm, Wahoo or Winged, 144.

Elms, Paul and Virginia, 141.

Fence-post tree (locust), 210.

Fernow, Dr., on pines, 52.

Filbert, 181.

Fir, Balsam, 70.

Fir, Nordmann's, 65.

Firs, 65.

Fruit trees for beauty, 82.

Goat Island, plants on, 113.

Habenaria, Round-leaved, 54.

Hazelnut, 181.

Hemlock, 55.

Hemlock Hill, *56.

Hickory, False Shagbark, 176.

Hickory, Mockernut, 176.

Hickory, Pignut, 176.

Hickory, Shagbark, 171, *173.

Hollies, Japanese, English, Himalayan, 195.

Holly, American, 194, *196.

Holly, leaves and berries, *195.

Johnny Appleseed, 87.

Judas-tree, 201.

Judas-tree, Eastern, 202.

June-berry, 205.

Juniper, Common, 71.

Kaki, 233.

Keeler, Miss, quoted, 117.

Linden, American, 206; flowers, *207, *209.

Linden, European, 208.

Liquidambar, 219, *220; fruits, *222.

Liriodendron, 145; candlesticks, 147; buds opening, 149; flowers of, *150, 153.

Liriodendrons in Washington, 152.

Locust, Black, 210; flowers, *211.

Locust, young trees, *212.

Maple, Ash-leaved, Box-elder, or Negundo, 17; flowers, *17; in bloom, *19.

Maple, Black, 22.

Maple, Japanese, 23.

Maple, Large-leaved, 22.

Maple, Mountain, 21.

Maple, Norway, 8; bloom, *9; samaras, *1.

Maple, Red, Scarlet or Swamp, 6; young leaves, *7.

Maple, Silver, 4; flowers, *4; samaras, *3.

Maple, Striped, 20, *21.

Maple, Sugar, 10; samaras, *11.

Maple, Sycamore, *13, 15; blossoms, *15.

Maples, A Story of Some, 1.

Moosewood, 20.

Niagara, plants and trees, 111.

Nut-bearing Trees, 157.

Oak, Chestnut, 42; flowers, *25.

Oak, English, 33, 46; acorns, *47.

Oak, The Growth of the, 25.

Oak, Laurel, 43.

Oak, Live, 45.

Oak, Mossy Cup or Bur, 38.

Oak, Pin, 30; acorns, *27; flowers, *31.

Oak, Post, *39, 40.

Oak, Swamp White, 38; flowers, *41; in early spring, *36; in winter, *29.

Oak, White, 33.

Oak, Willow, 42.

Oaks, blooming of, 28.

Oaks in Georgia, 44.

Oaks, Red, Black, Scarlet, 46.

Orchard, apple, 77.

Papaw, 225; flowers, *227; in bloom, *226.

Paxtang walnut, 160.

Pecan, 176; nuts, *159.

Persimmons, American, 229.

Persimmon, Japanese, *v, 232.

Persimmon tree in fruit, *231.

Pine, Austrian, 64.

Pine, Jack, 64.

Pine, Long-leaved or Southern, 63; forest, *61; young trees, *62.

Pine on Indian River, *53.

Pine, Pitch, 64.

Pine, Red, 59.

Pine, Scrub, 64.

Pine, White, *vii, 59; cone, *51.

Pines of America, 58.

Pines, The, 49.

Pines, White, avenue of, *67.

Plane, Oriental, 213.

Plane-tree, 213.

Poplar, Aspen, 121.

Poplar, Balsam, or Balm of Gilead, 118.

Poplar, Carolina, 122; as street tree, *123; blooming of, 124; flowers, *95.

Poplar, Cottonwood, 125; in winter, *126.

Poplar, Lombardy, 128, *129.

Poplar, White or Silver-leaved, 125.

Poplar, Yellow, 145.

Poplars (and Willows), 95, 118.

Poplars for pulp-making, 128.

Poplars, White, in spring, *119.

Pyrus family, 89.

Rain, flowers in, 203.

Red-bud, 201; in bloom, *201.

Red-woods, 72.

Salicylic acid from willows, 99.

Salix, genus (Willows), 117.

Sargent, Prof. Charles S., 92.

Sequoias, 72.

Service-berry, 205.

Shad-bush, 205; flowers, *206.

Skunk-cabbage, 188.

Some Other Trees, 185.

Spice-bush, 193; flowers, *194; berries, 234.

Spruce, Colorado Blue, 65.

Spruce, Norway, 69; cones, *49.

Spruce, White, cones, *71.

Spruces, 65.

Squirrels as nut-eaters, *179.

Strobiles (cones) of spruce, 69.

Sweet-gum, 219.

Sycamore, 214, *215; fruits, *217.

Tree-warden law, 35.

Tropical trees, 225.

Tulip (and Elm), 131, 145.

Tulip flowers, *133; structure of, 148.

Tulip tree in winter, *148.

Walnut, Black, 160; in winter, *162.

Walnut, English or Persian, 164.

Walnut, White, 164.

Washington, tree planting in, 32.

Whitewood, 145.

Willow, Basket, 104.

Willow, Black, 110.

Willow family, contrasts of, 98.

Willow, glaucous (pussy), 107.

Willow, Goat, 113.

Willow, Golden, 111.

Willow, Kilmarnock, 113.

Willow, Napoleon's, 98.

Willow, Pussy, 105; blooms, *97; in park, *106.

Willow, Weeping, 102; in early spring, *100; in storm, *103.

Willow, White, 108; blossoms, *108, 109; clump, *116; tree by stream, *112.

Willows and Poplars, 95.

Willows, colors of, 101.

Willows, Crack, Yellow, Blue, 107.

Willows of Babylon, 97.

Witch-hazel, 181; flowers, *181.

Botanical Names