EVBRGKEEN BBADTY. 69 



mourning. Upon rugged limestone scars and 

 cliffs, where nothing else, save a little Ivy, can 

 establish anchorage, the Yew is often seen cling- 

 ing, as if bound to the rocks with clamps of iron. 

 Well-nigh flattened against the perpendicular face 

 of the stone, and with the merest ledge or crevice 

 for its feet, it holds itself unchanged for centuries, 

 and is the most imposing picture nature affords of 

 imperturbable endurance. So, too, upon many a 

 remote hillside, beaten and ravaged by tempests, 

 exposure to the wrath of the elements seems con- 

 genial, and life in the midst of perils to be joy and 

 strength.' 



No tree, perhaps, adds so much grandeur to 

 the sylvan aspect of Winter as the Cedar of 

 Lebanon (page 70), though there are many that 

 add as much beauty. It is a tree that at once 

 arrests the attention, and perhaps the peculiar 

 sombreness of its foliage, and the striking manner 

 in which it is arranged, are the particular features 

 which interest and attract. The broad spread 

 and droop of the branches, the expansiveness of 

 the top, and the remarkable arrangement in 

 layers (-which catch and absorb the light) of the 



