which frequently attains a tree's height, is exported from its
native hiding-places to adorn men's gardens, and there, where a
better opportunity to know it at all seasons is granted, one
cannot tell which to admire most, the dark, bluish-green leathery
leaves, silvery beneath; the cream-white, deliciously fragrant
blossoms that turn pale apricot with age; or the brilliant
fruiting cone with the scarlet seeds a-dangling. At all seasons
it is a delight. When most members of this lovely tribe confine
themselves to warm latitudes, we especially prize the species
that naturally endures the rigorous climate of the "stern New
England coast."

Beavers (when they used to be common in the East) so often made
use of the laurel magnolia, not only of the roots for food, but
of the trunk, whose bitter bark, white sapwood, and soft,
reddish-brown heartwood were gnawed in constructing their huts,
that in some sections it is still known as the beaver-tree.
According to Delpino, the conspicuous, pollen-laden magnolia
flowers, with their easily accessible nectar, attract beetles
chiefly. These winged messengers, entering the heart of a newly
opened blossom, find shelter beneath the inner petals that form a
vault above their heads, and warmth that may be felt by the
finger, and abundant food; consequently they remain long in an
asylum so delightful, or until the expanding petals turn them out
to carry the pollen, with which they have been thoroughly dusted
during their hospitable entertainment, to younger flowers. As the
blossoms mature their stigmas in the first stage and the anthers
in the second, it follows the beetles must regularly
cross-fertilize them as they fly from one shelter to another.