FIRST JOURNEY. 21 



towering up" in majestic grandeur, straight as pillars, 

 sixty or seventy feet high, without a knot or branch. . 



Traveller, forget for a little while the idea thou hast 

 of wandering further on, and stop and look at this 

 grand picture of vegetable nature ; it is a reflection of 

 the crowd thou hast lately been in, and though a silent 

 monitor, it is not a less eloquent one on that account. 

 See that noble purple-heart before thee ! Nature has 

 been kind to it. Not a hole, not the least oozing from 

 its trunk, to show that its best days are passed. 

 Vigorous in youthful blooming beauty, it stands, the 

 ornament of these sequestered wilds, and tacitly rebukes 

 those base ones of thine own species, Avho have been 

 hardy enough to deny the existence of Him who 

 ordered it to flourish here. 



Behold that one next to it ! Hark ! how the ham- 

 merings of the red-headed woodpecker resound through 

 its distempered boughs ! See what a quantity of holes 

 he has made in it, and how its bark is stained with the 

 drops which trickle down from them ! The lightning, 

 too, has blasted one side of it. Nature looks pale and 

 wan in its leaves, and her resources are nearly dried up 

 in its extremities : its sap is tainted ; a mortal sickness, 

 slow as a consumption, and as sure in its consequences, 

 has long since entered its frame, vitiating and destroy- 

 ing the wholesome juices there. 



Step a few paces aside, and cast thine eye on that 

 remnant of a mora behind it. Best part of its branches, 

 once so high and ornamental, now lie on the ground in 

 sad confusion, one upon the other, all shattered and 

 fungus-grown, and a prey to millions of insects, which 

 are busily employed in destroying them. One branch 

 of it still looks healthy ! Will it recover 1 No, it 



