A THOUSAND-YEAR PINE 



quite compatible with the age and dig- 

 nity which go with a thousand years 

 of life. 



When, one day, the sawmill-man at 

 Mancos wrote, "Come, we are about 

 to log your old pine," I started at 

 once, regretting that a thing which 

 seemed to me so human, as well as so 

 noble, must be killed. 



I went with the axemen who were 

 to cut the old pine down. A grand 

 and impressive tree he was. Never 

 have I seen so much individuality, so 

 much character, in a tree. Although 

 lightning had given him a bald crown, 

 he was still a healthy giant, and was 

 waving evergreen banners more than 

 one hundred and fifteen feet above the 

 earth. His massive trunk, eight feet in 

 diameter at the level of my breast, 

 5 



