76 Remarks on Trees, with Reference to 



over the flat surface, which, in time, would be entirely covered 

 by it ; and then the tree would be freed for ever from all 

 danger in that quarter. 



The second process towards decay is exceedingly curious, 

 and cannot well be accounted for. If it takes place to a seri- 

 ous extent, no art of man can possibly save the tree ; and 

 sooner or later, according to the magnitude of the disease 

 with which it has been tainted, it will fall before the force of 

 the raging winds. Should this disease be slight, the timely 

 prevention of rain from penetrating the injured part, will 

 secure the tree from further mischief. 



I must here observe that, in animated nature, the vital func- 

 tions are internal ; so that, if the part within be mortally 

 wounded, death is the inevitable consequence. With most 

 trees, and all of those of Britain, it is otherwise. Their 

 vitality is at the periphery, connected with the bark, under 

 which an annual increase of wood takes place, so long as the 

 tree is alive. Should, however, the bark be cut away, the 

 tree will die upwards from the place where all the bark has 

 been destroyed. Not so with its internal parts. You may 

 entirely excavate the interior of a tree ; and, provided you 

 leave a sufficient strength of wood, by way of wall, in order 

 that it may be able to resist the fury of the tempest without, 

 taking care at the same time to exclude the rain, your tree 

 will remain in vigour from generation to generation. The 

 internal texture of a tree will perish, without any notice by 

 which we may be forewarned of the coming ruin. The disease 

 which causes the destruction takes place in the oak ; but more 

 frequently in the sycamore ; and most commonly of all in the 

 ash. We will select this last tree by way of elucidation. 



Often, when arrayed in all the bloom of vegetable beauty, 

 the ash tree is seen to send forth from its bole, or from some 

 principal branch, a small fungus, which, during the summer, 

 increases to a considerable size. It ripens in the autumn, and 

 falls to the ground when winter's rains set in. The bark 

 through which this fungus sprouted is now completely dead, 

 though it still retains its colour ; and that part of the wood 

 from which it proceeded is entirely changed in its nature, the 

 whole of its vitiated juices having been expended in forming 

 and nourishing the fungus. Nothing remains of its once firm 

 and vigorous texture. It is become what is commonly called 

 touchwood, as soft and frangible as a piece of cork, which, 

 when set on fire, will burn like tinder. In the meantime, the 

 tree shows no sign of sickness ; and its annual increase goes 

 on as usual ; till, at last, the new swelling wood closes over 

 the part from which the fungus had grown, and all appears to 

 go on right again. But, ere the slow process arrives at this 



