Part 1
THE “SHOWN TO THE CHILDREN” SERIES
EDITED BY LOUEY CHISHOLM
TREES
The “Shown to the Children” Series
1. BEASTS
With 48 Coloured Plates by PERCY J. BILLINGHURST. Letterpress by LENA DALKEITH.
2. FLOWERS
With 48 Coloured Plates showing 150 flowers, by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by C. E. SMITH.
3. BIRDS
With 48 Coloured Plates by M. K. C. SCOTT. Letterpress by J. A. HENDERSON.
4. THE SEA-SHORE
With 48 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by REV. THEODORE WOOD.
5. THE FARM
With 48 Coloured Plates by F. M. B. and A. H. BLAIKIE. Letterpress by FOSTER MEADOW.
6. TREES
With 32 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by C. E. SMITH.
7. NESTS AND EGGS
With 48 Coloured Plates by A. H. BLAIKIE. Letterpress by J. A. HENDERSON.
8. BUTTERFLIES AND MOTHS
With 48 Coloured Plates by JANET HARVEY KELMAN. Letterpress by Rev. THEODORE WOOD.
9. STARS
By ELLISON HAWKS.
10. GARDENS
With 32 Coloured Plates by J. H. KELMAN. Letterpress by J. A. HENDERSON.
11. BEES
By ELLISON HAWKS. Illustrated in Colour and Black and White.
12. ARCHITECTURE
By GLADYS WYNNE. Profusely Illustrated.
13. THE EARTH
By ELLISON HAWKS. Profusely Illustrated.
14. THE NAVY
By PERCIVAL A. HISLAM. 48 Two-colour Plates.
15. THE ARMY
By A. H. ATTERIDGE. 16 Colour and 32 Black Plates.
TREES SHOWN TO THE CHILDREN
BY JANET HARVEY KELMAN
DESCRIBED BY C. E. SMITH
THIRTY-TWO COLOURED PICTURES
LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACK, Ltd. 35 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. AND EDINBURGH
To THOMAS FORBES SACKVILLE WILSON
Dear children,--In this little book I have written about some of the trees which you are likely to find growing wild in this country, and Miss Kelman has painted for you pictures of these trees, with drawings of the leaves and flowers and fruit, so that it will be easy for you to tell the name of each tree. But I think there is one question which you are sure to ask after reading this small book, and that is, “How do the trees grow?”
The tree grows very much as we do, by taking food and by breathing. The food of the tree is obtained from two sources: from the earth and from the air. Deep down in the earth lie the tree roots, and these roots suck up water from the soil in which they are embedded. This water, in which there is much nourishment, rises through many tiny cells in the woody stem till it reaches the leaf, twigs, and green leaves. As it rises the growing cells keep what they need of the water. The rest is given off as vapour by the leaves through many tiny pores, which you will not be able to see without a microscope.
While it is day the green leaves select from the air a gas called carbonic acid gas. This they separate into two parts called oxygen and carbon. The plant does not need the oxygen as food, so the leaves return it to the air, but they keep the carbon. This carbon becomes mixed in some strange way with the water food drawn from the soil by the roots. Forming a liquid, it finds its way through many small cells and channels to feed the growing leaves and twigs and branches.
But, like ourselves, a tree if it is to live and thrive must breathe as well as take food. By night as well as by day the tree requires air for breathing. Scattered over the surface of the leaves, and indeed over the skin of the tree, are many tiny mouths or openings called stomata. It is by these that the tree breathes. It now takes from the air some oxygen, which, you will remember, is the gas that the leaves do not need in making their share of the tree food. Now you can see why it is that a tree cannot thrive if it is planted in a dusty, sooty town. The tiny mouths with which it breathes get filled up, and the tree is half-choked for lack of air. Also the pores of the leaves become clogged, so that the water which is not needed cannot easily escape from them. A heavy shower of rain is a welcome friend to our dusty town trees.
As a rule tree flowers are not so noticeable as those which grow in the woods and meadows. Often the ring of gaily-coloured petals which form the corolla is awanting, so are the green or coloured sepals of the calyx, and the flower may consist, as in the Ash tree, of a small seed-vessel standing between two stamens, which have plenty of pollen dust in their fat heads.
It is very interesting to notice the various ways in which the tree flowers grow. In some trees the stamens and seed-vessels will be found close together, as in the Ash tree and Elm. Or they may grow on the same branch of a tree; but all the stamens will be grouped together on one stalk and all the seed-vessels close beside it on another stalk, as in the Oak tree. Or the stamen flowers may all be found on one tree without any seed flowers, and on another tree, sometimes a considerable distance away, there will be found nothing but seed flowers. This occurs in the White Poplar or Abele tree.
You must never forget that both kinds of flowers are required if the tree is to produce new seed, and many books have been written to point out the wonderful ways in which the wind and the birds and the bees carry the stamen dust to the seed-vessels, which are waiting to receive it.
Each summer the tree adds a layer of new wood in a circle round the tree trunk; a broad circle when there has been sunshine and the tree has thriven well, and a narrow circle when the season has been wet and sunless. This new layer of wood is always found just under the bark or coarse, outer skin of the tree. The bark protects the soft young wood, and if it is eaten by cattle, or cut off by mischievous boys, then the layer of young wood is exposed, and the tree will die.
When winter approaches and the trees get ready for their long sleep, the cells in this layer of new wood slowly dry, and it becomes a ring of hard wood. If you look at a tree which has just been cut down, you will be able to tell how many years old the tree is by counting the circles of wood in the tree trunk. When a tree grows very slowly these rings are close and firm, and the wood of the tree is hard and valuable.
Many, many years ago, when a rich Scotch landlord lay dying, he said to his only son, “Jock, when you have nothing else to do, be sticking in a tree; it will aye be growing when you are sleeping.” He was a clever, far-seeing old man, Jock’s father, for he knew that in course of time trees grow to be worth money, and that to plant a tree was a sure and easy way of adding a little more to the wealth he loved so dearly.
But a tree has another and a greater value to us and to the world than the price which a wood merchant will give for it as timber. Think what a dear familiar friend the tree has been in the life of man! How different many of our best-loved tales would be without the trees that played so large a part in the lives of our favourite heroes. Where could Robin Hood and his merry men have lived and hunted but under the greenwood tree? Without the forest of Arden what refuge would have sheltered the mischief-loving Rosalind and her banished father? How often do we think of the stately Oak and Linden trees into which good old Baucis and Philemon were changed by the kindly gods.
And do you remember what secrets the trees told us as we lay under their shady branches on the hot midsummer days, while the leaves danced and flickered against the blue, blue sky? Can you tell what was the charm that held us like a dream in the falling dusk as we watched their heavy masses grow dark and gloomy against the silvery twilight sky?
In a corner of a Cumberland farmyard there grew a noble tree whose roots struck deep into the soil, and whose heavy branches shadowed much of the ground. “Why do you not cut it down?” asked a stranger; “it seems so much in the way.” “Cut it down!” the farmer answered passionately. “I would sooner fall on my knees and worship it.” To him the tree had spoken of a secret unguessed by Jock’s father and by many other people who look at the trees with eyes that cannot see. He had learned that the mystery of tree life is one with the mystery that underlies our own; that we share this mystery with the sea, and the sun, and the stars, and that by this mystery of life the whole world is “bound with gold chains” of love “about the feet of God.”
C. E. SMITH.
LIST OF PLATES
PLATE I
The Oak
PLATE II
The Beech
PLATE III
The Birch
PLATE IV
The Alder
PLATE V
The Hornbeam
PLATE VI
The Hazel
PLATE VII
The Lime or Linden
PLATE VIII
The Common Elm and Wych or Broad-Leaved Elm
PLATE IX
The Ash
PLATE X
The Field Maple
PLATE XI
The Sycamore, or Great Maple, or Mock Plane
PLATE XII
The Oriental Plane
PLATE XIII
The White Poplar or Abele Tree
PLATE XIV
The Aspen
PLATE XV
The White Willow
PLATE XVI
The Goat Willow or Sallow
PLATE XVII
The Scotch Pine or Scotch Fir
PLATE XVIII
The Yew
PLATE XIX
The Juniper
PLATE XX
The Larch
PLATE XXI
The Spruce Fir
PLATE XXII
The Silver Fir
PLATE XXIII
The Holly
PLATE XXIV
The Wild Cherry or Gean
PLATE XXV
The Whitebeam
PLATE XXVI
The Rowan or Mountain Ash
PLATE XXVII
The Hawthorn
PLATE XXVIII
The Box
PLATE XXIX
The Walnut
PLATE XXX
The Sweet Chestnut or Spanish Chestnut
PLATE XXXI
The Horse Chestnut
PLATE XXXII
The Cedar of Lebanon
TREES
PLATE I
THE OAK
Of all our forest trees the Oak is undoubtedly the king. It is our most important tree, the monarch of our woods, full of noble dignity and grandeur in the summer sunshine, strong to endure the buffeting of the wintry gales. It lives to the great age of seven hundred years or more, and is a true father of the forest. We read of the Oak tree in the story books of long ago. There are many Oak trees mentioned in the Bible. In Greece the Oak was believed to be the first tree that God created, and there grew a grove of sacred Oaks which were said to utter prophecies. The wood used for the building of the good ship Argo was cut from this grove, and in times of danger the planks of the ship spoke in warning voices to the sailors.
In Rome a crown of Oak leaves was given to him who should save the life of a citizen, and in this country, in the days of the Druids, there were many strange customs connected with the Oak and its beautiful guest the mistletoe. The burning of the Yule log of Oak is an ancient custom which we trace to Druid times. It was lit by the priests from the sacred altar, then the fires in all the houses were put out, and the people relit them with torches kindled at the sacred log. Even now in remote parts of Yorkshire and Devonshire the Yule log is brought in at Christmas-time and half burned, then it is taken off the fire and carefully laid aside till the following year.
We know that in Saxon times this country was covered with dense forests, many of which were of Oak trees. Huge herds of swine fed on the acorns which lay in abundance under the trees; and a man, when he wished to sell his piece of forest, did not tell the buyer how much money the wood in it was worth, but how many pigs it could fatten. In times of famine the acorns used to be ground, and bread was made of the meal. There have been many famous Oak trees in England: one of these we have all heard of--the huge Oak at Boscobel in which King Charles II. hid with a great many of his men after he was defeated at the battle of Worcester.
I think you will have no difficulty in recognising an Oak tree (1) at any time of the year. Look at its trunk in winter: how dark and rough it is; how wide and spreading at the bottom to give its many roots a broad grip of the earth into which they pierce deeply. Then as the stem rises it becomes narrower, as if the tree had a waist, for it broadens again as it reaches a height where the branches divide from the main trunk. And what huge branches these are--great rough, dark arms with many crooked knots or elbows, which shipbuilders prize for their trade. These Oak-tree arms are so large and heavy that the tree would need to be well rooted in the ground to stand firm when the gale is tossing its branches as if they were willow rods.
The Oak tree does not grow to a great height. It is a broad, sturdy tree, and it grows very slowly, so slowly that after it is grown up it rarely increases more than an inch in a year, and sometimes not even that. But just because the Oak tree lives so leisurely, it outlasts all its companions in the forest except, perhaps, the yew tree, and its beautiful hard, close-grained wood is the most prized of all our timber.
In the end of April or early in May, the Oak leaves (2) appear; very soft and tender they are too at first, and of a pale reddish green colour. But soon they darken in the sunshine and become a dark glossy green. Each leaf is feather-shaped and has a stalk. The margin is deeply waved into blunt lobes or fingers, and there is a strongly-marked vein up the centre of the leaf, with slender veins running from it to the edge.
In autumn these leaves change colour: they become a pale brown, and will hang for weeks rustling in the branches till the young buds which are to appear next year begin to form and so push the old leaves off. If a shrivelling frost or a blighting insect destroys all the young Oak leaves, as sometimes happens, then the sturdy tree will reclothe itself in a new dress of leaves, which neither the Beech, nor the Chestnut, nor the Maple, could do. It shows what a great deal of life there is in the stout tree.
The flowers of the Oak arrive about the same time as the leaves, and they grow in catkins which are of two kinds. You will find a slender hanging catkin (3) on which grow small bunches of yellow-headed stamens (4). Among the stamens you can see six or eight narrow sepals, but these stamens have no scales to protect them as the Hazel and Birch catkins have. On the same branch grows a stouter, upright catkin, and on it are one or maybe two or three tiny cups (5), made of soft green leaves called bracts, and in the centre of this cup sits the seed-vessel, crowned with three blunt points. As the summer advances this seed-vessel grows larger and fatter and becomes a fruit (6) called an acorn, which is a pale yellow colour at first, and later is a dark olive brown. The soft leafy cup hardens till it is firm as wood, and in it the acorn sits fast till it is ripe. It then falls from the cup and is greedily eaten by the squirrels and dormice, as it was in the olden times by the pigs. From those acorns that are left lying on the ground all winter, under the withered leaves, will grow the tiny shoots of a new tree when the spring sunshine comes again.
The Oak tree is the most hospitable of trees: it is said that eleven hundred insects make their home in its kindly shelter. There are five kinds of houses, which are called galls, built by insects, and you can easily recognise these, and must look for them on the Oak tree. Sometimes on the hanging stamen catkins you will find little balls like currants with the catkin stem running through the centre. These are the homes of a tiny grub which is living inside the currant ball, and which will eat its way out as soon as it is ready to unfold its wings and fly.
Often at the end of an Oak twig you find a soft, spongy ball which is called an Oak apple. It is pinkish brown on the outside and is not very regular in shape. This ball is divided inside into several cells, and in each cell there lives a grub which will also become a fly before summer is over.
Sometimes if you look at the back of an Oak leaf you will see it covered with small red spangles which are fringed and hairy. These spangles each contain a small insect, and they cling to their spangled homes long after the leaves have fallen to the ground.
Another insect home or gall grows in the leaves, and this one is much larger, sometimes as big as a marble. It too is made by an insect which is living inside, and this is called a leaf gall.
There is still another insect which attacks the leaf buds and causes them to grow in a curious way. Instead of opening as usual, the bud proceeds to make layers of narrow-pointed green leaves which it lays tightly one above the other, like the leaves of an artichoke or the scales of a fir cone. If you cut one of these Oak cones in half you will find many small insects inside, which have caused the bud to grow in this strange way.
And there is one other oak gall you must note. When the leaves have all fallen and the twigs are brown and bare, you see clusters of hard brown balls growing on some of them. They are smooth and glossy and the colour of dried walnuts. These also have been made by an insect. Sometimes you see the tiny hole in the ball by which the grub has bored its way out. This kind of gall does great harm to the tree, as it uses up the sap that should nourish the young twigs.
The wood of the Oak is very valuable. Sometimes a fine old tree will be sold for four hundred pounds, and every part of it can be used. The bark is valuable because it contains large quantities of an acid which is used in making ink; also in dyeing leather. Oak that has been lying for years in a peat bog, where there is much iron in the water, is perfectly black when dug out, black as ink, because the acid and the iron together have made the inky colour.
The wood of an Oak tree lasts very long: there are Oak beams in houses which are known to be seven hundred years old, and which are as good as the day they were cut. For centuries our ships were built of Oak, the wooden walls of old England, hearts of Oak, as they have often been called, because Oak wood does not readily splinter when struck by a cannon ball. And Oak wood will not quickly rot: we know of piles which have been driven into river beds centuries ago and are still sound and strong. In pulling down an old building lately in London, which was built six hundred and fifty years ago, the workmen found many oak piles in the foundations, and these were still quite sound.
PLATE II
THE BEECH
In the south of England there lived a holy hermit named St. Leonard whose hut was surrounded by a glade of noble Beech trees. The saint loved the beautiful trees, but by day he could not sit under their shady branches because of the vipers which swarmed about the roots, and by night the songs of many nightingales disturbed his rest. So he prayed that both the serpents and the birds might be taken away, and from that day no viper has stung and no nightingale has warbled in the Hampshire forests. So we read in the old story books. There are many such legends connected with the Beech tree. It has grown in this country as far back as we have any history, and it is often called the mother of the forest, because its thickly covered branches give shelter and protection to younger trees which are struggling to live.
The Beech is a cousin of the Oak. It is a large, handsome tree, with a noble trunk and widely spreading branches which sweep downward to the ground, and in summer every branch and twig is densely covered with leaves. No other tree gives such shade as the Beech, and in a hot summer day how tempting it is to lie underneath the branches and watch the squirrels glancing in and out among the rustling leaves and tearing the young bark.
In early spring you will recognise the Beech tree (1) by its smooth olive-grey trunk. Only the Beech tree has such a smooth trunk when it is fully grown, and in consequence, every boy with a new knife tries to cut his name on its bark. In summer the young bud (3) of next year’s leaf is formed where each leaf joins the stem. All winter time you can see slender-pointed buds (4) growing at the end of every twig, and when April comes each of these pointed buds has become a loose bunch of silky brown scales. Inside these protecting scales is hidden the young leaf bud, and soon the winter coverings unclose. For a short time they hang like a fringe round the base of the leaf stalk, but they quickly fall off and strew the ground beneath. The young leaves inside are folded like a fan, and they have soft silky hairs along the edges. How lovely they are when open! Each leaf (2) is oval, with a blunted point at the end, and the edges are slightly waved.
At first the leaf colour is a clear pale green, through which the light seems to shine; and there is nothing more lovely than a Beech tree wood in early May when the young leaves are glistening against the clear blue sky. But as summer comes nearer the leaf colour darkens, and by July it is a deep, glossy green. You can then see very distinctly the veins which run from the centre to the edge of every leaf. These leaves grow so thickly that no stems or branches can be seen when the tree is in full foliage; and they are beautiful at all seasons. When autumn comes, bringing cold winds and a touch of frost, then the Beech tree leaves change colour: they seem to give us back again all the sunshine they have been storing up during summer, for they blaze like the sunset sky in myriad shades of gold, and red, and orange. In windy open places, these beautiful leaves soon strew the ground with a thick carpet that whirls and rustles in every breeze. But in sheltered glades, and especially in hedges, the leaves will hang all winter till they are pushed off by the new spring buds, and they glow russet red in the December sunshine, like the breast of the robin that is singing on the twig.
At every stage the Beech tree is a thing of beauty, and it is one of England’s most precious possessions.
The young flowers appear about the same time as the leaves, and, like many other trees, the Beech has two kinds of flowers. The stamen flower (6) has a long, drooping stalk, from the end of which hangs a loose covering of fine brown scales, with pointed ends. Beyond this scaly covering hangs a tassel of purplish brown stamens, eight or twelve, or more, each with a yellow head.
On the same twig, not very far distant, you find the seed flower (5). This grows upright on a short stout stalk which bears at the end a bristly oval ball (7). At the top of this bristly ball you see six slender threads waving in the air. These rise from two seeds which are enclosed in the bristly covering. By and by the ball opens at the top and forms a cup with four prickly brown sides, each lined with silky green down. Inside the cup are two triangular green nuts which are the fruit (8). These nuts become dark brown when they ripen, and on windy days they are blown in thousands from their coverings and fall to the ground, where they lie hidden among the rustling brown leaves.
In old times people called these Beech nuts Beech-mast or food, and herds of pigs were taken to the Beech woods to feed on the nuts, which are said to contain oil. But pigs prefer to eat acorns, and nowadays the Beech nuts are left to fatten the squirrels and dormice, and the thrushes and deer, except those which children gather to string into necklaces.
No grass or plant will grow below the Beech tree branches: the leaves are too close together to let the sunshine reach the ground; also the roots are greedy, and are said to use up all the nourishment.
About a hundred years ago a Beech tree was found in Germany whose young leaves were dark purple red, and never became green. Young plants from this strange tree were much sought after, and now in many parts of the country you see red or copper beeches, as we usually call them.