a Wbisper from tbe pines. 45 



tion. They have squeezed in front of him and taken 

 his light and heat. They have out-climbed and 

 over-shadowed him. In whatever ways trees have 

 of accomplishing the socially murderous feat, they 

 have frozen him out. 



The pitch-pine is dead. He has succumbed to the 

 chill of good society. He has gratified his ambition, 

 perhaps, to live the life of the "first families," and 

 the result is, that he amounts to nothing now, save 

 perhaps a cord-foot or so of firewood. I have a feel- 

 ing that he may have found the living a little too 

 high for him. If he had only stuck to the sand 

 barrens he might have been a stout and thrifty tree. 

 But the good living of this richer soil has taken the 

 energy all out of him ; so that his haughty neighbours 

 have had an easy and a short task in crowding him 

 to the wall. How very human these pine-trees are ! 

 Or shall we say how very like the trees these mortals 

 be ? It is sometimes a little hard to know which 

 way to put the analogy, — whether to give precedence 

 to the man by virtue of his superiority, or to the tree 

 on account of its seniority. In any country but 

 America genealogy has the preference. In almost 

 any court of Europe the pine-tree would go in to 

 dinner before the human. 



The whole grove is a witness to this exclusiveness 

 and selfishness of the pines. The little group has 

 but scant underbrush, even where it has been allowed 

 to grow ; and within short range of my eye there are 

 half a dozen other groups of pines whence other 



