It Should Not Be
Imagined, As I Think It Often Is Imagined, That These Forests Are
Made Up Of Splendid
Trees, or that splendid trees are even common.
When timber grows on undrained ground, and when it is uncared for,
It does not seem to approach nearer to its perfection than wheat
and grass do under similar circumstances. Seen from a little
distance, the color and effect is good; but the trees themselves
have shallow roots, and grow up tall, narrow, and shapeless. It
necessarily is so with all timber that is not thinned in its
growth. When fine forest trees are found, and are left standing
alone by any cultivator who may have taste enough to wish for such
adornment, they almost invariably die. They are robbed of the
sickly shelter by which they have been surrounded; the hot sun
strikes the uncovered fibers of the roots, and the poor, solitary
invalid languishes, and at last dies.
As one ascends the river, which by its breadth forms itself into
lakes, one is shown Indian villages clustering down upon the bank.
Some years ago these Indians were rich, for the price of furs, in
which they dealt, was high; but furs have become cheaper, and the
beavers, with which they used to trade, are almost valueless. That
a change in the fashion of hats should have assisted to polish
these poor fellows off the face of creation, must, one may suppose,
be very unintelligible to them; but nevertheless it is probably a
subject of deep speculation.
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