64 OLD PLYMOUTH TRAILS 



roots of the tree not only suffice to hold it up- 

 right against the storm, but they last long after 

 the trunk has been cut away. Our forefathers 

 in clear land used to set the uprooted stumps of 

 the pine up in rows for fencing, unsightly barri- 

 cades that would persist for a century with little 

 sign of decay. On the other hand, wood from 

 the trunk set in the ground soon decays. 



Of the great trees centuries old that once 

 clothed our land from Newfoundland to the Da- 

 kotas, from northern New Brunswick to south- 

 ern Pennsylvania, few if any remain. Nor shall 

 anyone see their like here again for centuries. 

 But the pines are coming back again to New Eng- 

 land. We know their values now as never be- 

 fore and we are encouraging them to reclothe our 

 solitudes both for their commercial and their 

 sentimental value. This last is great and grows 

 greater, nor need one necessarily go into the 

 storm at midnight to appreciate it. One may 

 get some phases of it there, though, that are not 

 to be found elsewhere. My way home through 

 the storm was rough and wet, but it was not 

 lonely. The songs of the pines went with me, 

 especially the tinkling xylophone dance music of 

 the dryad, deep within the ancient trunk. 



