to road-sides and village inclosures. It was formerly a favorite
shade-tree, and still retains its privileges in many old-fashioned
places. A century ago great numbers of Poplars were planted on the
village way-sides, in front of dwelling-houses, on the borders of public
grounds, and particularly on the sides of lanes and avenues leading to
houses situated at a short distance from the high-road. Hence a row
of these trees becomes suggestive at once of the approach to some old
mansion or country-seat, which has now, perhaps, been converted into a
farm-house, having exchanged its proud honors of wealth for the more
simple and delightful appurtenances of rustic independence.

Some of these ancient rows of Poplars are occasionally seen in old
fields, where almost all traces of the habitation which they were
intended to grace are obliterated. There is a melancholy pleasure
in surveying these humble ruins, whose history would illustrate the
domestic habits of our ancestors. The cellar of the old house is now
a part of the pasture-land, and its form can be traced by the simple
swelling of the turf. Sumachs and Cornel-bushes have usurped the
place of the exotic shrubbery in the old garden; and the only ancient
companions of the Poplars, now remaining, are here and there a
straggling Lilac or Currant-bush, a tuft of Houseleek, and perhaps,
under the shelter of some dilapidated wall, the White Star of Bethlehem
is seen meekly glowing in the rude society of the wild-flowers.

The Lombardy Poplar, which was formerly a favorite way-side ornament,
a sort of idol of the public, and, like many another idol, exalted to
honors that exceeded its merits, fell suddenly into unpopularity and
disgrace. After having been admired and valued as if its leaves were all
emeralds and its buds apples of gold, it was spurned and ridiculed and
everywhere cut down as a cumberer of the ground. The faults attributed