io Travels in a Tree- top 



Indians, wild as the untamed world wherein 

 they dwelt ; and now we look almost in vain 

 for country as Nature fashioned it. Man may 

 make of a desert a pleasant place, but he also 

 unmakes the forest and bares the wooded hills 

 until as naked and desolate as the fire-swept 

 ruins of his own construction. It is but a 

 matter of a few thousand cart-loads of the hill 

 moved to one side, and the swamp that the 

 farmer dreads because it yields no dollars is ob- 

 literated. He has never considered its wealth 

 of suggestiveness. " A fig for the flowers and 

 vermin. I must plant more corn." 



But here and there the tall trees are still 

 standing, and their tops are an untravelled 

 country. I climbed an oak this cool mid- 

 summer morning; clambered beyond the 

 mists, which were rolling away as I seated 

 myself far above the ground, safe from intru- 

 sion, and resting trustfully on yielding branches 

 that moved so gently in the passing breeze that 

 I scarcely perceived their motion. 



How much depends upon our point of view ! 

 The woodland path may not be charming if 

 the undergrowth too closely shuts us in. In 

 all we do, we seek a wider vision than our 

 arm's length. There may be nothing better 



