Sometimes I rambled to pine groves, standing like temples, or

like fleets at sea, full-rigged, with wavy boughs, and rippling with

light, so soft and green and shady that the Druids would have

forsaken their oaks to worship in them; or to the cedar wood beyond

Flints Pond, where the trees, covered with hoary blue berries,

spiring higher and higher, are fit to stand before Valhalla, and the

creeping juniper covers the ground with wreaths full of fruit; or to

swamps where the usnea lichen hangs in festoons from the white

spruce trees, and toadstools, round tables of the swamp gods, cover

the ground, and more beautiful fungi adorn the stumps, like

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