I can tell. One is like a tree with branches and so forth; but the other is not. Then the bark is quite different. I can see that the leaves of the Fern tree are like those of the common Fern, which is so troublesome in our sandy land, only they are a great deal larger.
But there is a stranger difference still. Just take my axe and cut one of them down.
I can soon do that. It is not nearly so thick as that Wattle I fetched down the other day with not a dozen cuts.
Willie doffs his jacket, catches at the axe, and is at once dropping it in double quick time upon the Fern stem. A dozen blows were given, and another, and another, but the tree did not fall. Taking breath, and wiping his forehead, Willie murmured out:—
Well this is tough! it beats my Wattle, hollow. I declare if the axe don’t ring against it as if it were iron or glass. It is quite different from one of our trees, for that is rather soft at the outside, though it may get harder as we get towards the middle.
As I think you are more likely to blunt my axe, than cut down the tree, you may put on your jacket, and we will inspect that fallen fern I see yonder. Perhaps after you have looked at the inside, you will find another wonder.
It was not long before our young Botanist uttered an exclamation of joyful surprise.
I have found it out, said he. Only fancy, father, I was hammering away at a mere shell, though it was a hard one. The tree is quite soft inside, though like flint outside. It is the very opposite to every tree I ever saw before in all my life.
No doubt it is; and it was to see it with your own eyes that I brought you here to the Fern tree valley.
Thank you, dear father, you always like to give me a treat, and this is a rare one, too. But I am sure that such a tree as this could never grow like a vegetable Gum tree, that you were telling me all about.