But about this one there was something remarkable.
Upon its extreme end grew a tree of singular form and foliage.

It was not a large tree, and its branches drooped downwards until their tips almost touched the water.

The pendulous boughs, and long lanceolate silvery leaves, rendered it easy to tell what sort of tree it was.

It was the weeping or _Babylonian_ willow--so-called, because it was upon trees of this species that the captive Jews hung their harps when they "sat and wept by the streams of Babel." This beautiful tree casts its waving shadow over the streams of South Africa, as well as those of Assyria; and often is the eye of the traveller gladdened by the sight of its silvery leaves, as he beholds them,--sure indications of water-- shining afar over the parched and thirsty desert.

If a Christian, he fails not to remember that highly poetical passage of sacred writing, that speaks of the willow of Babylon.
Now the one which grew upon the little peninsula had all these points of interest for little Truey--but it had others as well.