e, its sorrowing attitude, and its gently
waving spray, all in sweet accordance with its picturesque, poetic, and
Scriptural associations.

Hence the Weeping Willow never fails to give pleasure to the sight even
of the most insensible observer. There are not many whose minds are so
obtuse as to be blind to its peculiarly graceful attitude and motions,
and every one is familiar with its history, as recorded in poetry and
romance, all the incidents of which have served to elevate it above any
association with fashion or vulgarity. When we see it waving its long
branches neatly over some private inclosure, overshadowing the gravelled
walk and the flower-garden,--or watching pensively over the graves of
the dead, where the light hues of its foliage help to soften the glowing
fancies which are apt to arise from our meditations among the tombs,--or
on some wide common, giving solace to the passing traveller, and
inviting the playful children to its shade,--or trailing its sweeping
spray, like the tresses of a Naiad, over some silvery pond or gently
flowing stream,--it is in all cases a delightful object, always
picturesque, always soothing, inspiring, and sacred to memory, and
serving, by its alliance with what is hallowed in literature, to bind us
more closely to Nature.

Above all the trees of the New World, the Elm deserves to be considered
the sovereign tree of New England. It is abundant both in field and
forest, and forms the most remarkable feature in our cleared and
cultivated grounds. Though the Elm is found in almost all parts of the
country, in no other is it so conspicuous as in the Northeastern States,
where, from the earliest settlement of the country, it has been planted
as a shade-tree, and has been valued as an ornament above the proudest
importations from a foreign clime. It is the most remarkable of the
drooping trees except the Willow, which it surpasses in stateliness and
in the variety of its growth.

When I look upon a noble Elm,--though I feel no disposition to contemn
the studies of those who examine its flowers and fruit with the
scrutinizing eye of science, or the calculations of those who consider
only its practical use--it is to me an object of pleasing veneration. I
look upon it as the embodiment of some benign intention of Providence,
who has adapted it in numerous ways to the wants of his creatures. While
admiring its grace and its majesty, I think of the great amount of human
happiness and