TAXODIUM DISTICHUM. 
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3 
comparison between the two trees. Instead of reaching 300 or 400 feet in height, the Taxodium does not 
exceed 120 feet. 
In the form of the base of the trunk, the deciduous Cypress has an exaggerated resemblance to 
Wellingtonia. The old trees of both have large buttresses ; but in the former this is carried to an excessive 
extent, the base in them being generally three times the circumference of any other part of the trunk, so that 
in felling them the practice was to cut above them, and the negro labourers had first to raise themselves 
upon scaffolds 5 to 6 feet from the ground. This base is also usually hollow for about three-quarters of its 
bulk—a character used by Moore in his lines in the “ Lake of the Dismal Swamp,” viz., “ I ’ll hide the 
maid in a Cypress tree, when the footstep of death is near.” The surface of the stem, especially near the 
base, is longitudinally furrowed with deep channels, the result of these projecting buttresses. With regard 
to the remarkable conical protuberances or excrescences above mentioned, called Cypress knees, which 
spring from the root, and rise to the surface from a depth of 8 or 10 feet when the tree is growing in a 
submerged soil, they are part of the root, being of the same soft wood, and are covered with the same reddish 
bark. Michaux says that they are always hollow, and that the negroes use them to make bee hives. They 
are very much of the shape of a sugar loaf, but broader ; but sometimes are of considerable size. According 
to Michaux, no cause can be assigned for their existence ; but Lyell (“ Second Visit to the United States,” 
vol. ii. p. 180) says they are supposed to supply the roots with air, as he says that they are never found when 
the Cypress grows on dry ground. This is a mistake ; they are very generally absent when the trees grow on 
dry ground—but not always. We have seen them on lawns where the knees proved an interruption to the 
scythe ; and as is mentioned by Loudon, the trees at Syon and Whitton produce them abundantly, “ where 
they rise a foot above the surface of the soil, and more than double that height from roots under water in the 
case of trees growing by the sides of lakes at these places.” Michaux says they do not begin to appear 
until the tree has reached 20 to 25 feet high. 
The top boughs at the other end of the trees have a kindred peculiarity of their own too, viz., remarkable 
angular bends, which are characteristic of the tree when not in leaf. 
In Louisiana it is called Cypie or Cypries, and in the Atlantic Southern States Cypress, and sometimes 
Bald Cypress. It is also known by the name of Black and White Cypress in the Carolinas and Georgia; 
but these names are either founded only on the quality and colour of the wood, or on that of the bark, which 
is influenced by the locality in which the tree grows—being lighter when the tree grows in water than in 
dry ground. 
Description .—All trees have an individual character of their own. Some have it so marked that they 
impart a character to the whole scenery in which they occur, but few have it in such a degree, or of such an 
impressive nature, as the deciduous Cypress. The gloomy brakes in which it stands up to the “ knees ” in 
water, combine with it to make a scene of desolation and awe overpowering to the human mind. We 
remember a collector who went out to Brazil, and was exceptionally unsuccessful. The forests which 
yielded so much to others seemed to yield nothing to him. It was a puzzle at the time, but long afterwards 
(long after the poor man was in his grave) we learned the cause from one who had met him in Brazil. He 
could not stand the Brazilian forests. There was nothing in them to harm him, and he knew it, but they 
frightened him ; their awful silence, dim obscurity, and impressive height took possession of his soul, and 
filled it with fear and trembling. With a companion he did well enough, but alone they scared him. If 
that is the impression left by the Brazilian forests, we may guess how much more the gloomy CyprLres, 
with their alligators and countless creeping and slimy accessories (imaginary or not), must weigh upon the 
spirits. To form an idea of these regions, we are told we must visit the spot itself; we may imagine, but we 
cannot realize their oppressive silence, their awful lonesomeness, and their dreary aspect. Animated Nature 
is banished, life itself seems dead, until the sullen splash of the alligator wakens the echoes through the long 
canals, arched over like lofty aisles by the gloomy canopy of thick boughs of the Cypress. N ot that natural 
[ 30 ] c beauty 
