With regard to amber, you doubtless share the general belief in the story that poplars on the banks of the river Eridanus shed tears of it in grief over ‘ Phaethon; and that these poplars are the sisters of Phaethon, who out of sorrow for the boy were changed into trees and still drip tears—of amber! Such tales, when I heard them from the lips of the poets, made me expect that if ever I got to the Eridanus, by going underneath one of the poplars and holding out a fold of my cloak I could supply myself with amber by catching a few of their tears.