'The many coloured woods, Shade deepening over shade, the country round Of every hue, from wan declining green "Of all the hues of autumn, those of the oak are commonly the most harmonious. As its vernal tints are more varied than those of other trees, so are its autumnal. In an oaken wood, you see every variety of green, and every variety of brown, owing either to the different exposure of the tree, its different soil, or its different nature. The deep orange tint of the beech is, perhaps, after all, the most beautiful of autumnal colours. I have known many planters endeavour, in their improvements, to range their trees in such a manner as, in the wane of the year, to receive all the beauty of autumnal colouring. The attempt is in vain, unless they could so command the weather, as to check or produce at pleasure those tints which nature hath subjected to so many accidents. A general direction is all that can be given; all must be left to chance; and, after the utmost that art can do, the wild forest, with its usual discords and monotonies, will present a thousand beauties which no skill of man can rival." Nothing can be more true, or come more directly to the heart of a lover of rural scenery, than this last remark. The wild and free in the landscapes of nature afford a charm, too deep, perhaps, for the mind to analyze, but too real and obvious to be unfelt. Taste is not to be guided or restrained by the rules of art; and in that innate principle, whatever it may be, which affords pleasure to the mind from the appearances of natural scenery, we perceive an adaptation to things as they actually exist, which reveals to us a paternal Creator. No person who, at this season, has, with an eye of taste, observed the accidental grouping of forms and tints in a forset of natural wood, or in a wild Highland valley, can refuse his assent to this sentiment, or can misunderstand the meaning implied in the observation,-that none can paint like Nature. It is not merely in the harmony, the freshness, and the beauty of the colouring, that this is true, but in the contrasts, in the discrepancies, and even in the long breadths of tameness and uniformity which occasionally occur, as well as in the whole style of grouping, sometimes so wild, at other times so subdued, and again so full of unexpected grace and soft luxuriance. There is a peculiar charm in the very freedom and negligence of nature; and He who willed that this freedom and negligence should exist, beneficently implanted the feeling which should receive enjoyment from it. It might have been otherwise; and, what indeed, is remarkable, it is otherwise in regard to works of art. There we expect an exact uniformity, or, at least, a studied adjustment, and we are pained when this is not to be found. Had such a sentiment been extended to natural objects, how much enjoyment would have been lost, how much discomfort would have been experienced. THIRD WEEK-TUESDAY. THE WOODS.-THEIR USES. ON the first sight of a large forest, a superficial observer may be inclined to ask, Why is all this waste of vegetable luxuriance? If this arrangement be, indeed, the work of an Intelligent Being, how comes it that he has been so laboriously busy in encumbering the earth with such a number and variety of useless trees? Would not a soil so fertile as to support these monstrous weeds, for they scarcely deserve a better name, have been more wisely and beneficently occupied with the production of less luxuriant but more profitable edible herbs; or, if there must be trees, why do they not bear fruits fit for human food? In answer to this objection, I shall not at present recur to the view which has already been so frequently referred to in the course of this work, of the intention of the Creator that man should be saved from sinking into sloth and insignificance by the necessity of labour, and should be stimulated to the cultivation of his mental and bodily powers, by holding out rewards for his industry,—an intention which is evinced by the scope afforded for agricultural improvement, and which is incompatible with the arrangement that the objection supposes preferable. It will be my object rather to show that woods are by no means so barren and unprofitable as they are sometimes considered, but that, on the contrary, they form an important department in the economy of nature. Every part of a tree has its use. The leaves are not only necessary to the growth of the tree itself, as I have elsewhere shown, but, when shed in autumn, they cover the ground so as to protect the roots from the injurious effects of the winter's frosts; while, in their decay, they furnish a manure which adds to the fertility of the soil, otherwise liable to be exhausted by the demands of a gigantic vegetation. I have already spoken of their edible fruits, and I may mention, in a single word, that their seeds, by whatever other means they are protected, whether in the form of nuts or of berries, generally furnish nourishment to some species of living creatures, and thus, either directly or indirectly, not seldom contribute to the support or enjoyment of man. If from the seeds of trees we turn to the bark, we shall find that this also has its important uses. I have already considered the application of certain kinds of bark to the purposes of the tanner, but this is far from being the only use to which that part of a tree has been converted. Some species of foreign bark are aromatic, as that of the cinnamon tree; others are medicinal, as the Peruvian bark; and others, again, are capable of supplying the place of hemp in the manufacture of coarse stuffs and cordages; while, from an evergreen oak in Spain, we procure that useful material of which corks are manufactured. From the bark of trees, also, various gums and resins are extracted, of the former of which gum arabic, and of the latter tar, may be considered as the most common and the most useful. In the "Spring" and "Summer" volumes, I have already adverted to the various advantages of trees, and, among other particulars, have shortly noticed the adaptation of timber to the important purposes of house and ship building, as well as of the different kinds of machinery by which man facilitates his labours, both in agriculture and manufactures. As this subject, however, belongs more particularly to that part of my plan which I have reserved for autumn, I must again place it before the attention of my readers, and instead of going over the same ground in my own words, I am happy to employ, in an abridged form, the eloquence of that excellent French writer of the last century, whom I have already quoted more than once. "We may easily discover in the wide scenes of nature, a number of bodies that are very massive and compact, such as stones and blocks of marble, which we can appropriate to a variety of uses. But these are very intractable, as well as brittle, and are only useful to us by continuing in a state of immobility; whereas the most enormous masses of wood are always obsequious to the will of man. Mighty growths of wood may, by the force of blows, be driven deep either in land or water, where they will form a forest of immoveable piles, that are frequently incapable of corruption, and will for ever sustain the weight of the largest structures with such a firm cohesion and equality, as are not to be obtained even from the solidity of the earth itself. "I likewise see vast bodies of timber disposed in a very different situation. They ascend to the tops of buildings, where they strengthen the walls, and prevent them from starting from the positions assigned them; they sustain the whole pressure of a huge roof of tiles or slates, or even lead itself. "Is it at any time necessary for trees to be in motion for the service of mankind? You will then behold immense beams, which almost appear unmanageable, moving from their places, and adapting themselves to the full play of mechanic powers. They mount aloft, they descend, they roll, they whirl along, with as much agility as force, for the accommodation of man, and to aid the inability of his feeble arms. They supply us with all those vehicles which are formed by the art of the wain-wright, and with all those mighty engines which despatch more work in an instant than could formerly be accomplished in many hours. Above all, we are indebted to the forests for those vessels that move upon the mighty waters, and resemble floating cities, which are wafted, with all their inhabitants, by the winds, from one end of the globe to the other. "Man observed that the animals around him were supplied with all that was necessary to their existence from the moment of their birth, and were enabled to transport themselves from place to place with surprising agility; while he himself was constrained to move with a slow progress in the painful pursuit of those accommodations that were dispersed at a great distance from him. He beheld other animals gliding as light as the wind in the regions above him. He saw them cleave the air without the least impediment, and transport themselves from land to land, by a flight that was unobstructed by interposing seas. Man came into the world destitute of all these advantages, but he derived an ample equivalent from the faculty of reason, by which he compelled the terrestrial animals to direct their motions for his service. The levity of wood, the fluctuation of the waters, and the force of the winds, furnished him with expedients for procuring vehicles by land and sea, as useful as the wings of birds. When these inventions were completed, he no longer was li |