936 IN PRAISE OF THE WEYMOUTH PINE. 
cape. True, it leans neither to left nor 
right, its trunk is seldom contorted; if it 
grow at all it must grow straight toward the 
zenith; but it is sadly maimed, nevertheless, 
— hardly more than a tall stick with a broom 
at the top. If you would seea typical white 
pine you must go elsewhere to look for it. 
I remember one such, standing by itself in 
a broad Concord River meadow; not re- 
markable for its size, but of a symmetry and 
beauty that make the traveler turn again 
and again, till he is a mile away, to gaze 
upon-it. No pine-tree ever grew like that 
in a wood. 
I go sometimes through a certain hamlet, 
which has sprung suddenly into being on a 
hill-top where formerly stood a pine grove. 
The builders of the houses have preserved 
(doubtless they use that word) a goodly num- 
ber of the trees. But though I have been 
wont to esteem the poorest tree as better 
than none, I am almost ready to forswear 
my opinion at sight of these slender trunks, 
so ungainly and unsupported. The first 
breeze, one would say, must bring them 
down upon the roofs they were never meant 
to shade. Poor naked things! I fancy they 
