242 IN PRAISE OF THE WEYMOUTH PINE. 



some tokens of it not too frequent, indeed, 

 nor too self-assertive in the world about 

 me. And so I say, let me never be, for any 

 long time together, where there are no Wey- 

 mouth pines at which I may gaze from afar, 

 or under which I may lie and listen. They 

 boast not (rare stoics!), but they set us a 

 brave example. No "blasts that blow the 

 poplar white " can cause the pine-tree to 

 blanch. No frost has power to strip it of a 

 single leaf. Its wood is soft, but how daunt- 

 less its spirit ! a truly encouraging para- 

 dox, lending itself, at our private need, to 

 endless consolatory moralizings. The great 

 majority of my brothers must be comforted, 

 I think, by any fresh reminder that the bat- 

 tle is not to the strong. 



For myself, then, like the lowly partridge- 

 berry vine, I would be always the pine-tree's 

 neighbor. Who knows but by lifelong fel- 

 lowship with it I may absorb something of 

 its virtue ? Summer and winter, its fragrant 

 breath rises to heaven; and of it we may 

 say, with more truth than Landor said of the 

 over-sweet fragrance of the linden, "Happy 

 the man whose aspirations are pure enough 

 to mingle with it! " 



