"
I have paused more than once in the wilderness of America, to
contemplate the traces of some blast of wind, which seemed to have
rushed down from the clouds, and ripped its way through the bosom of
the woodlands; rooting up, shivering, and splintering the stoutest
trees, and leaving a long track of desolation. There was something
awful in the vast havoc made among these gigantic plants; and in
considering their magnificent remains, so rudely torn and mangled, and
hurled down to perish prematurely on their native soil, I was
conscious of a strong movement of the sympathy so feelingly expressed
by Evelyn. I recollect, also, hearing a traveller of poetical
Temperament expressing the kind of horror which he felt on Beholding
on the banks of the Missouri, an oak of prodigious size, which had
been, in a manner, overpowered by an enormous wild grape-vine. The
vine had clasped its huge folds round the trunk, and from thence had
wound about every branch and twig, until the mighty tree had withered
in its embrace. It seemed like Laocoon struggling ineffectually in the
hideous coils of the monster Python. It was the lion of trees
perishing in the embraces of a vegetable boa.
I am fond of listening to the conversation of English gentlemen on
rural concerns, and of noticing with what taste and discrimination,
and what strong, unaffected interest they will discuss topics, which,
in other countries, are abandoned to mere woodmen, or rustic
cultivators.
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