GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE TREES 



as it towers high above the ordinary works of 

 man, conveys the repose of conscious strength 

 to the beholder. There is a great oak in 

 Connecticut to which I make pilgrimages, and 

 from which I always get a message of rest 

 and peace. There it stands, strong, full-pow- 

 ered, minding little the most furious storms, 

 a benediction to every one who will but lift 

 his eyes. There it has stood in full majesty 

 for years unknown, for it was a great oak, so 

 run the title-deeds, way back in 1636, when 

 first the white man began to own land in the 

 Connecticut Valley. At first sight it seems not 

 large, for its perfect symmetry conceals its 

 great size ; but its impression grows as one 

 looks at it, until it seems to fill the whole land- 

 scape. I have sat under it in spring, when yet 

 its leafy canopy was incomplete ; I have looked 

 into its green depths in midsummer, when its 

 grateful shadow refreshed the highway ; I have 

 seen the sun set in redness beyond its bare 

 limbs, the snowy countryside emphasizing its 

 noble lines ; I have tried to fathom the mystery 

 in its sturdy heart overhead when the full 

 moon rode in the sky; and always that "great 



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