236 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 see a typical white 

 pine you must go elsewhere to look for it. 

 I remember one such, standing by itself in 

 a broad Concord Eiver 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 



