TREES IN ASSEMBLAGES.

The subject of Trees cannot be exhausted by treating them as individuals or species, even with a full enumeration of their details.  Some trees possess but little interest, except as they are grouped in assemblages of greater or less extent.  A solitary Fir or Spruce, for example, when standing in an inclosure or by the roadside, is a stiff and disagreeable object; but a deep forest of Firs is not surpassed in grandeur by one of any other species.  These trees must be assembled in extensive groups to affect us agreeably; while the Elm, the Oak, and other wide-spreading trees, are grand objects of sight, when standing alone, or in any other situation.

I will not detain the reader with a prolix account of the classification of trees in assemblages, but simply glance at a few points.  The Romans used four different words to express these distinctions.  When they spoke of a wood with reference to its timber, they used the word silva; sal[Transcriber’s note:  remainder of word illegible], was a collection of wild-wood in the mountains; nemus, a smaller collection, partaking of cultivation, and answering to our ideas of a grove; lucus was a wood, of any description, which was set apart for religious purposes, or dedicated to some Deity.  In the English language we can make these distinctions intelligible only by the use of adjectives.  A forest is generally understood to be a wild-wood of considerable extent, retaining all its natural features.  A grove is a smaller assemblage of trees, not crowded together, but possessing very generally their full proportions, and divested of their undergrowth.  Other inferior groups are designated as copse and thicket.  The words park, clump, arboretum, and the like, are mere technical terms, that do not come into use in a general description of Nature.

Groves, fragments of forest, and inferior groups only are particularly interesting in landscape.  An unbroken forest of wide extent makes but a dreary picture and an unattractive journey, on account of its gloomy uniformity.  Hence the primitive state of the earth, before it was modified by human hands, must have been sadly wanting in those romantic features that render a scene the most attractive.  Nature must be combined with Art, however simple and rude, and associated with human life, to become deeply affecting to the imagination.  But it is not necessary that the artificial objects of a landscape should be of a grand historical description, to produce these agreeable effects:  humble objects, indeed, are the most consonant with Nature’s sublime aspects, because they manifest no seeming endeavor to rival them.  In the deep solitary woods, the sight of a woodman’s hut in a clearing, of a farmer’s cottage, or of a mere sheepfold, immediately awakens a tender interest, and enlivens the scene with a tinge of romance.