"I planted the nut,"
said he, "from which the tree grew. My father was with me when I
planted it."
As we admired the shrubbery and trees at Elmwood, we thought of
the inspiration this spot afforded that generous soul who dwelt
so happily here.
"Give fools their gold and knaves their power.
Let Fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree is more than all."
Every schoolboy has read about the famous Washington elm of
Cambridge. What a marvelous tree to think about and gaze upon!
It is difficult to analyze your emotions while standing near
this historic spot gazing at this famous tree.
Since the balmy breeze of some far-off springtime caught those
winged seeds from which America's most celebrated tree sprang,
what changes have come to our land! When this patriarch was
young, in the nearby woods Indians and fierce, wild beasts
brushed past its companions. Perhaps the squaws fastened their
linden cradles to their limbs while they planted their maize in
the springtime, and when they had grown larger, orioles hung
their corded hammocks amid their pendulous branches, with no
fear of squirrels or that horror of all low nesting birds - the
black snake.
Summer after summer brought new verdure to their branches. Many
autumns turned their wealth of emerald leaves to golden glory.
Winter upon winter twisted their tough branches and weighed them
down with snows until they now stand the monarchs of other days.
There is the very spot where Washington took command of the
Continental Army on July 3, 7775. How like the man who stood
beneath it was this tree then. It had beauty, strength and
grace, without signs of any weakness, proclaiming it the king of
trees. Here once stood "a man of great soundness of judgment,
moral self-control, intense fiery passions curbed by a will of
iron. His sweet, tender soul had been enshrined in a worthy
temple." His grave and handsome face, noble bearing and courtly
grace of manner all proclaimed him king of men.
But here still stands that great old elm, a nation's shrine. It
struggles bravely to clothe with verdure its few remaining
limbs, still speaking eloquently of those stirring days "that
tried men's souls." Each green leaf in its aged crest tells of
those noble patriots, whose memory of the glorious lives of self-
sacrifice shall forever remain, verdant in the hearts of a
liberty-loving people. This glorious tree, with its few broken
limbs and scanty foliage, wears signs of many a wintry combat
and summer winds surprise attacks "as heroes their scars,"
unbending still through all those years of toil and strife.
Perhaps a few more years and this venerable tree shall yield to
some wintry blast; its present site to be marked by a monument
of bronze or marble.
