THE GNARLED PINE-TREE. 



of it now in its prime for it is still a young 

 tree, as trees go on our upland is at best 

 but a maimed and mutilated relic. From 

 its babyhood upward it has suffered, like 

 man, an eternal martyrdom. It began life 

 as a winged seed, blown about by the 

 boisterous wind which shook it rudely adrift 

 from the sheltering cone of its mountain- 

 cradled mother. Many a sister seed floated 

 lightly with the breeze to warm nooks in 

 the valley, where the tree that sprang from 

 it now grows tall and straight, and equally 

 developed on every side into a noble Scotch 

 fir of symmetrical dimensions. But ad- 

 ventures are to the adventurous ; you and 

 I, my tree, know it. You were caught in 

 its fierce hands by some mighty sou'wester, 

 that whirled you violently over the hilltop 

 till you reached the very summit of the 

 long straight spur ; and there, where it 

 dropped you, you fell and rooted in a wind- 

 swept home on a wind-swept upland. Your 

 growth was slow. For many and many a 



83 



