232 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



the land, or forests stood in ancient pride ; where trade 

 and commerce prospered, and richly laden vessels sailed 

 from port to port there now the dead moor covers all 

 life and spreads its dread winding-sheet alike over the 

 deepest sea and the richest valley. 



Even in our day, moors grasp with their death-hand 

 at living nature around them. Here and there a lofty 

 tree still rises from the dismal depth ; in mountain valleys 

 even groves and forests sometimes break the sad monotony. 

 But in the unequal struggle the moor is sure to win the 

 battle. Like foul disease, the hungry moor-water gnaws 

 at the roots of noble trees. It softens the ground, it 

 changes it into morass, and the proud giants of the forest 

 fall one by one, before the dark, invisible foe beneath 

 them. They resist long and bravely; but their roots are 

 drowned with the abominable liquid, their hold is loosened, 

 their leaves turn yellow and crisp ; the wintry storm 

 comes in fury, and the noble trees sink powerless into 

 the grave at their feet. The struggle may be marked, 

 even now, in all its stages. Thus, in the famous Black 

 Forest of Germany, there rise on many a breezy hill 

 glorious old fir-trees and graceful, silvery birches. Only 

 a few yards beyond, however, the eye meets but with 

 sorry, stunted dwarfs, trees crippled before they reached 

 their height, old before their time, and weak already, in 

 the days of their youth. Their crowns are withered, their 

 branches hung with weird, weeping mosses. Then the trees 

 become still fewer and smaller ; low, deformed trunks, with 

 twisted branches alone survive. At last, these also dis- 

 appear, and the dead quiet of the moor, with its humble 



