THE MAGNOLIA.
The Magnolia, though, excepting one species, a stranger to New England soil, demands some notice. Any one who has never seen the trees of this genus in their native soil can form no correct idea of them. I would not say, however, that they would fall short of his conceptions of their splendor. When I first beheld one of the large magnolias, though it answered to my previous ideas of its magnificence, I thought it a less beautiful tree than the Southern cypress, and less picturesque than the live-oak, the black walnut, and some other trees I saw there. The foliage of the Magnolia is very large and heavy, and so dark as to look gloomy. It is altogether too sombre a tree in the open landscape, and must add to the gloom of any wood which it occupies, without yielding to it any other striking character.
There are several species of Magnolia cultivated in pleasure-grounds, the selection being made from those bearing a profusion of flowers. The only one that grows wild in New England is of small stature, sometimes called the Beaver-tree. It inhabits a swamp near Gloucester, about twenty miles from Boston. This place is its northern boundary. The flowers are of a dull white, without any beauty, but possessed of a very agreeable fragrance, causing them to be in great demand. The Magnolia wood is annually stripped both of flowers and branches, and the trees will probably be extirpated before many years by this sort of vandalism.