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and made with her own hands; and, as the quantity sustained no diminution, the aged pair discovered from this circumstance the superior nature of their guests, and hastened to offer up in sacrifice to them a goose, which they had reared in their hut. The goose, however, escaped from their grasp, and sought refuge at the feet of the gods, who took the bird under their protection. On rising from the table, they ordered their kind hosts to follow them to the top of a neighbouring hill. There they be. held a flood sweeping away the houses of their hard-hearted neighbours, whilst their cottage stood uninjured amidst the raging waters, and , was transformed into a magnificent temple. Jupiter then promised to grant them whatever they wished; but they desired nothing more than to be the servants of his temple. The god graciously complied with their request, and they served in his temple for many years. At length, as they were one day conversing before the door of the edifice on the wonder of which they had been eye-witnesses, Philemon observed that Baucis was gradually changing into a Linden-tree, and Bauc her husband was turn
ing into an Oak. They calmly and cheerfully continued their conversation so long as they could see, and then took an affectionate farewell of each other. As trees, they stood for ages before the temple, and were objects of veneration to all the adjacent country.
An event of modern times has contributed to render the Linden not less dear to all loving hearts than the preceding legend of fabulous antiquity. About the year 1790, there dwelt at Königsberg, in Prussia, a pair who, united in affection, were shortly to be joined in the bonds of wedlock. The wedding-day was already fixed, when the bride, in the first bloom of youthful beauty, suddenly fell sick, and in a few hours expired. Such was the grief of the lover at the unexpected loss, that he, too, soon expired: and on the very day on which they were to have been married, the remains of both were consigned to one and the same grave. Here they had reposed for some years, when over their heads sprang up from one root two Linden trees, which, firmly entwining each other, shot up into a crown, that, with its fragrant blossoms, yearly decks the bridal bed in which two faithful hearts are inseparably united.
Among the trees of central Europe, the Linden is known to attain the greatest age next to the Oak. Near Neustadt, on the Kocher, in Wirtemberg, there is a stately Linden, which for many centuries has attracted the notice of passengers, and invited them to rest in its shade. Its trunk is thirty-six feet in circumference. The branches issue from it at the height of eight to ten feet in a horizontal direction, and are supported by pillars, partly of stone, partly of wood, otherwise they would break down by their own weight. In 1811, there were one hundred and twenty such pillars. This Linden has now withstood time and tempests for at least six hundred years.
In the cemetery of the hospital of Annaberg, in Saxony, there is a very ancient Linden tree, concerning which tradition relates that it was planted by an inhabitant of Annaberg with its top in the ground, and that its roots became branches, which now overshadow a considerable part of the cemetery. The planter of this tree, who was buried not far from it, left a sum of
money, the interest of which is paid, agreeably to his will, to the chaplain of the hospital, for delivering a sermon annually, in the afternoon of Trinity Sunday, beneath this remarkable
Τ Η Υ Μ Ε.
Flies of all shapes, beetles of all hues, light butterflies, and vigilant bees, for ever surround the lowery tufts of Thyme. It may be that to these cheerful inhabitants of the air, whose life is a long spring, these little tufts appear like an immense tree, old as the earth, and covered with eternal verdure, bеgemmed with myriads of flowery vases, filled with honey for their express enjoyment.
Among the Greeks, Thyme denoted the graceful elegance of the Attic style; because it covered Mount Hymettus and gave the aromatic flavour, of which the ancients were so fond, to the honey made there. “To smell of Thyme " was, therefore, a commendation bestowed on those writers who had made themselves masters of the Attic style.
Activity is a warlike virtue, always associated with true courage. It was on this account that