The beauty of a knotty oak tree is different from that of a lovely flower. It is the rough beauty of an old soldier's face showing the traces of wind and sun, of harm and of victory, bearing the scars of bygone battles. It is different from the fragile, delicate beauty of a young girl which is evident to anyone at first sight. The beauty of an old and crippled tree is hidden unless perceived by the alert eye which is able to fancy or rather discern the hard trials of life the tree has ex- perienced. Contemplating trees in this way is not much different from busying oneself with physiognomies,...