84 IN THE WHIP MOUNTAINS. 
Mount Willard by the railroad was all aglow 
with rhodora, —a perfect flower-garden, on the 
monochromatic plan now so much in vogue. 
Along the edge of the rocks on the summit of 
Mount Willard a great profusion of the com- 
mon saxifrage was waving in the fresh breeze: 
“Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.” 
On the lower parts of the mountains, the foli- 
age was already well out, while the upper parts 
were of a fine purplish tint, which at first I 
was unable to account for, but which I soon 
discovered to be due to the fact that the trees 
at that height were still only in bud. 
A notable feature of the White Mountain 
forests is the absence of oaks and hickories. 
These tough, hard woods would seem to have 
been created on purpose to stand against wind 
and cold. But no; the hills are covered with 
the fragile poplars and birches and _ spruces, 
with never an oak or hickory among them. I 
suspect, indeed, that it is the very softness of 
the former which gives them their advantage. 
For this, as I suppose, is correlated with rapid 
growth; and where the summer is very short, 
speed may count for more than firmness of 
texture, especially during the first one or two 
years of the plant’s life. ‘Trees, like men, lose 
in one way what they gain in another; or, in 
