"And now," said Miss Harson, when the children were wondering if that were the end, "we have come to the most interesting tree of the whole species--the aspen, or trembling poplar. It is a small, graceful tree with rounded leaves having a wavy, toothed border, covered with soft silk when young, which remains only as a fringe on the edge at maturity, supported by a very slender footstalk about as long as the leaf, and compressed laterally from near the base. They are thus agitated by the slightest breath of wind with that quivering, restless motion characteristic of all the poplars, but in none so striking as this. 'To quiver like an aspen-leaf has become a proverb. The foliage appears lighter than that of most other trees, from continually displaying the under side of the leaves. "The aspen has been called a very poetical tree, because it is the only one whose leaves tremble when the wind is apparently calm. It is said, however, to suggest fickleness and caprice, levity and irresolution--a bad character for any tree. The small American aspen, which is quite common, has a smooth, pale-green bark, which gets whitish and rough as the tree grows old. The foliage is thin, but a single leaf will be found, when examined, uncommonly beautiful. A spray of the small aspen, when in leaf, is very light and airy-looking, and the leaves produce a constant rustling sound. 'Legends of no ordinary interest linger around this tree. Ask the Italian peasant who pastures his sheep beside a grove of _Abele_ why the leaves of these trees are always trembling in even the hottest weather when not a breeze is stirring, and he will tell you that the wood of the trembling-poplar formed the cross on which our Saviour suffered.'" "Oh, Miss Harson!" said Clara, in a low tone. "Is that _true_?" "We do not know that it is, dear, nor do we know that it is not. Here are some verses about it which I like very much: "'The tremulousness began, as legends tell, When he, the meek One, bowed his head to death E'en on an aspen cross, when some near dell Was visited by men whose every breath That Sufferer gave them. Hastening to the wood-- The wood of aspens--they with ruffian power Did hew the fair, pale tree, which trembling stood As if awestruck; and from that fearful hour Aspens have quivered as with conscious dread Of that foul crime which bowed the meek Redeemer's head. "'Far distant from those days, oh let not man, Boastful of reason, check with scornful speech Those legends pure; for who the heart may scan Or say what hallowed thoughts such legends teach To those who may perchance their scant flocks keep On hill or plain, to whom the quivering tree Hinteth a thought which, holy, solemn, deep, Sinks in the heart, bidding their spirits flee All thoughts of vice, that dread and hateful thing Which troubleth of each joy the pure and gushing spring?'"