IN PEAISE OF THE WEYMOUTH 

 PINE. 



" I seek in the motion of the forest, in the sound of the 

 pines, some accents of the eternal language." 



SENANCOUB. 



I COULD never think it surprising that the 

 ancients worshiped trees; that groves were 

 believed to be the dwelling places of the 

 gods; that Xerxes delighted in the great 

 plane-tree of Lydia; that he decked it with 

 golden ornaments and appointed for it a 

 sentry, one of "the immortal ten thousand." 

 Feelings of this kind are natural; among 

 natural men they seem to have been well- 

 nigh universal. The wonder is that any 

 should be without them. For myself, I can- 

 not recollect the day when I did not regard 

 the Weymouth pine (the white pine I was 

 taught to call it, but now, for reasons of my 

 own, I prefer the English name) with some- 

 thing like reverence. Especially was this 

 true of one, a tree of stupendous girth and 



