or masses of woodland. Long lines of trees marked the roads. Near these, at frequent intervals, a glimpse of masonry, from amid a clump of aged trees, indicated the position of a homestead.
Land was far too valuable to be left under forest. But the borders of all roads were planted with approved varieties of trees. These both afforded a pleasant shade to the roads, and by the cutting down of every thirtieth tree, or so, each year, yielded a sufficient supply of timber for the few purposes to which it was applied. The trees surrounding the homesteads were, of course, sacred from the axe, and, being usually of long-lived species, were often of venerable antiquity, counting their years, not by centuries, but by chiliads. Such trees, associated with far-extending family traditions, were regarded with feelings of affection difficult for us to conceive.
Such a tree was a venerable sequoia, which it was my privilege to see in the region bordering on where once was a great lake known as Erie. This tree, proved by documentary evidence to be over forty-two centuries old, was said to be the immediate offspring of a tree that had attained an almost equal antiquity. This hoary survivor from a distant past had seen pass away more than a hundred and seventy generations, and was supposed to be the oldest living organism on the face of the globe. It stood near the ancient homestead of the Huarvils, a family justly proud of its ability to trace its descent from two presidents of the earliest ages of the republic, both victims of malignant passions, both martyrs to duty.
I was filled with surprise to see the high state of cultivation to which had been brought the whole country
