through all the shaggy undergrowth of the woods go with tribute to the
small streams, and these again to the larger. The rivers swell, but

there are no devastating floods; for the thick felt of roots and
mosses holds the abounding waters in check, stored in a thousand

thousand fountains. Neither are there any violent hurricanes here, At
least, I never have heard of any, nor have I come upon their tracks.

Most of the streams are clear and cool always, for their waters are
filtered through deep beds of mosses, and flow beneath shadows all the

way to the sea. Only the streams from the glaciers are turbid and
muddy. On the slopes of the mountains where they rush from their

crystal caves, they carry not only small particles of rock-mud, worn
off the sides and bottoms of the channels of the glaciers, but grains

of sand and pebbles and large boulders tons in weight, rolling them
forward on their way rumbling and bumping to their appointed places at

the foot of steep slopes, to be built into rough bars and beds, while
the smaller material is carried farther and outspread in flats,

perhaps for coming wheat fields and gardens, the finest of it going
out to sea, floating on the tides for weeks and months ere it finds

rest on the bottom.
Snow seldom falls to any great depth on the lowlands, though it comes

in gloriousabundance on the mountains. And only on the mountains
does the temperature fall much below the freezing point. In the

warmest summer weather a temperature of eighty-five degrees or even
more occasionally is reached, but not for long at a time, as such heat

is speedily followed by a breeze from the sea. The most charming days
here are days of perfect calm, when all the winds are holding their

breath and not a leaf stirs. The surface of the Sound shines like a
silver mirror over all its vast extent, reflecting its lovely islands

and shores; and long sheets of spangles flash and dance in the wake of
every swimming seabird and boat. The sun, looking down on the

tranquil landscape, seems conscious of the presence of every living
thing on which he is pouring his blessings, while they in turn, with

perhaps the exception of man, seem conscious of the sun as a
benevolent father and stand hushed and waiting.

XVIII
The Forests of Washington

When we force our way into the depths of the forests, following any of
the rivers back to their fountains, we find that the bulk of the woods

is made up of the Douglas spruce (Pseudotsuga Douglasii), named in
honor of David Douglas, an enthusiastic botanical explorer of early

Hudson's Bay times. It is not only a very large tree but a very
beautiful one, with lively bright-green drooping foliage, handsome

pendent cones, and a shaft exquisitely straight and regular. For so
large a tree it is astonishing how many find nourishment and space to

grow on any given area. The magnificent shafts push their spires into
the sky close together with as regular a growth as that of a well-tilled

field of grain. And no ground has been better tilled for the
growth of trees than that on which these forests are growing. For it

has been thoroughly ploughed and rolled by the mighty glaciers from
the mountains, and sifted and mellowed and outspread in beds hundreds

of feet in depth by the broad streams that issued from their fronts at
the time of their recession, after they had long covered all the land.

The largest tree of this species that I have myself measured was
nearly twelve feet in diameter at a height of five feet from the

ground, and, as near as I could make out under the circumstances,
about three hundred feet in length. It stood near the head of the

Sound not far from Olympia. I have seen a few others, both near the
coast and thirty or forty miles back in the interior, that were from

eight to ten feet in diameter, measured above their bulging insteps;
and many from six to seven feet. I have heard of some that were said

to be three hundred and twenty-five feet in height and fifteen feet in
diameter, but none that I measured were so large, though it is not at

all unlikely that such colossal giants do exist where conditions of
soil and exposure are surpassingly favorable. The average size of all

the trees of this species found up to an elevation on the mountain
slopes of, say, two thousand feet above sea level, taking into account

only what may be called mature trees two hundred and fifty to five
hundred years of age, is perhaps, at a vague guess, not more than a

height of one hundred and seventy-five or two hundred feet and a
diameter of three feet; though, of course, throughout the richest

sections the size is much greater.
In portion" target="_blank" title="n.比率 vt.使成比例">proportion to its weight when dry, the timber from this tree is

perhaps stronger than that of any other conifer in the country. It is
tough and durable and admirably adapted in every way for shipbuilding,

piles, and heavy timbers in general. But its hardness and liability
to warp render it much inferior to white or sugar pine for fine work.

In the lumber markets of California it is known as "Oregon pine" and
is used almost exclusively for spars, bridgetimbers, heavy planking,

and the framework of houses.
The same species extends northward in abundance through British

Columbia and southward through the coast and middle regions of Oregon
and California. It is also a common tree in the canyons and hollows

of the Wahsatch Mountains in Utah, where it is called "red pine" and
on portions of the Rocky Mountains and some of the short ranges of the

Great Basin. Along the coast of California it keeps company with the
redwood wherever it can find a favorableopening. On the western

slope of the Sierra, with the yellow pine and incense cedar, it forms
a pretty well-defined belt at a height of from three thousand to six

thousand feet above the sea, and extends into the San Gabriel and San
Bernardino Mountains in Southern California. But, though widely

distributed, it is only in these cool, moist northlands that it
reaches its finest development, tall, straight, elastic, and free from

limbs to an immenseheight, growing down to tide water, where ships of
the largest size may lie close alongside and load at the least

possible cost.
Growing with the Douglas we find the white spruce, or "Sitka pine," as

it is sometimes called. This also is a very beautiful and majestic
tree, frequently attaining a height of two hundred feet or more and a

diameter of five or six feet. It is very abundant in southeastern
Alaska, forming the greater part of the best forests there. Here it

is found mostly around the sides of beaver-dam and other meadows and
on the borders of the streams, especially where the ground is low.

One tree that I saw felled at the head of the Hop-Ranch meadows on the
upper Snoqualmie River, though far from being the largest I have seen,

measured a hundred and eighty feet in length and four and a half in
diameter, and was two hundred and fifty-seven years of age.

In habit and general appearance it resembles the Douglas spruce, but
it is somewhat less slender and the needles grow close together all

around the branchlets and are so stiff and sharp-pointed on the
younger branches that they cannot well be handled without gloves. The

timber is tough, close-grained, white, and looks more like pine than
any other of the spruces. It splits freely, makes excellent shingles

and in general use in house-building takes the place of pine. I have
seen logs of this species a hundred feet long and two feet in diameter

at the upper end. It was named in honor of the old Scotch botanist
Archibald Menzies, who came to this coast with Vancouver in 1792[23].

The beautiful hemlockspruce with its warm yellow-green foliage is
also common in some portions of these woods. It is tall and slender

and exceedinglygraceful in habit before old age comes on, but the
timber is inferior and is seldom used for any other than the roughest

work, such as wharf-building.
The Western arbor-vitae[24] (Thuja gigantea) grows to a size truly

gigantic on low rich ground. Specimens ten feet in diameter and a
hundred and forty feet high are not at all rare. Some that I have

heard of are said to be fifteen and even eighteen feet thick. Clad in
rich, glossy plumes, with gray lichens covering their smooth, tapering

boles, perfect trees of this species are truly noble objects and well
worthy the place they hold in these glorious forests. It is of this

tree that the Indians make their fine canoes.
Of the other conifers that are so happy as to have place here, there