IN PRAISE OF TREES 263 



densely wooded mountain shoulder; on the other, 

 over rolling fields plumed with maples and sen- 

 tineled with little cedars, to the pines on a hill and 

 the wall of tamaracks edging the great swamp. 

 Trees are my cloud of witnesses. Ever they sur- 

 round me, and from the once contemptibly familiar 

 they have become, to eyes grown wiser in seeking 

 beauty and solace in the familiar, a constant source 

 of charm and wonder and delight ; and of pride, too, 

 for our North American trees, our thrice familiar 

 Yankee trees, are as beautiful as any in the world, 

 and just as we once went far astray in our architect- 

 ure from the native style we should have developed, 

 so in our landscape gardening we went astray far 

 astray from the lessons our own trees might have 

 taught us. 



Oddly, perhaps, winter is the season to begin the 

 study of trees, pictorially considered, as the archi- 

 tect must base his work on knowledge of the frame, 

 the anatomist on knowledge of the skeleton. A 

 skeleton, however, is hardly a lovely thing to con- 

 template, in a closet or elsewhere. But a leafless 

 tree is wonderful and fair. I once studied "fine 

 arts" under a pupil of Ruskin (may one still speak 

 of Ruskin?). Aside from learning that Beacon Hill 

 purple window-panes were not originally purple, but 

 have been tinted by a century of sun, like the win- 

 dows of Chartres and Amiens, and also acquiring 

 some very slight proficiency in handling a paint- 

 brush, I cannot say that I greatly benefited by this 

 course of study, except in one unforgetable respect. 

 I learned, from a chance remark of Ruskin' s, quoted 

 by my teacher and illustrated by one of "the mas- 



