88 East and West 
In every locality there are features that 
are commonplace and these are usually 
accentuated by the efforts of man. But 
what is its native charm; what is it that com- 
mends it in spite of this? For it is that 
which is worth attending to. There are 
still considerable tracts of woods on Long 
Island—tracts from which the white oak 
and chestnut have been culled year after 
year for the shipyards: destined in the old 
days for the staunch hulls of whaling vessels, 
and in these effeminate times to assume the 
trim forms of steam yachts and other pleasure 
craft, until almost the last primeval white oak 
or chestnut has been set adrift on the high 
seas. But the best of the Long Island woods, 
‘that feature which, by the grace of the gods, 
possesses not a commercial but a poetic 
value, has remained; and if—by the grace of 
the gods again—Long Island has not become 
to you Real Estate merely, but is still part of 
your divine estate in the open, you may go 
into these woods in the appointed season and 
solace yourself with that charm which is 
theirs in so great measure—your eye with 
the pure vision of the dogwood, and your ear 
with that wonderful hymn of the wood thrush. 
Then shall you know that you have possessed 
