Under the Oaks and Elsewhere 



peaceful sky, never more beautiful than in the 

 mellow light of this December day, or keeping 

 my eyes close to the mottled, mossy ground 

 between the rugged trunks of the old trees. 



It is a relief to face the real creation. It 

 clarifies thought to look at virgin soil. Go from 

 a lumber yard to a grove, and you will know 

 what I mean. A forest floor to-day I find more 

 welcome than a paved street or the tiled hall of 

 my neighbor's stately mansion. The "raw ma- 

 terials," as the merchant calls them, and holds 

 them, attract me, but not after they are reduced 

 to the conditions demanded by our imperious 

 civilization. It is all a wonderful story, as when 

 a tree to-day is pulp to-morrow, and a news- 

 paper the day after. We should all glory in 

 such a triumph of human ingenuity, and the 

 world scorns all who cannot keep up with its 

 progress. So be it ; but I am very glad tO' spend 

 an ideal winter day in the woods ; to tread, as 1 

 am now doing, a trifling remnant of a forest 

 floor; to go back to "the good old days" when 

 Nature was not interfered with by the hand of 

 man. 



When where I stand was first a forest floor 

 it is not possible to say. That the higher ground 



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