170 East and West 
is a little nearer the heavens here—an inch 
or so. But the trees, the beautiful trees! 
They do not accord one the same set of im- 
pressions as do Eastern conifers. Vast and 
unapproachable, they are no more companion- 
able than are Egyptian temples or Gothic 
spires. It is difficult to speak simply enough 
ofthem. If you know them, you find super- 
latives offensive. If you know them, you can 
think of them in visual images and thus escape 
the inadequateness of the adjective. This is 
the most satisfactory way of thinking of the 
mountains, the forest and the sea. Let them 
speak for themselves. The towering gaunt 
sugar pine with its drooping crown—so 
remote and yet so benign—there aloft in the 
dazzling blue; the massive cedar with its 
buttressed trunk, its aspect of immense solid- 
ity; the tapering, graceful, feminine fir, so 
imposing in its height, so light and airy, as if 
it were more of the sky than of the earth; 
these and many more, standing singly and in 
little groups, never crowded, the embodiment 
of dignity and grandeur, as if these qualities 
had assumed the forms of trees—what adjec- 
tives would they use if they were to describe 
themselves? 
They are for visual, not for verbal images. 
