Perhaps if my early home had stood upon an island of evergreens, or if I had dreamed my first bright dreams among pine hills and cliffs of laurel, I should have loved their changeless beauty less. But through all my early years I saw but little of our native evergreens, and none of cultured, save a stunted cedar, that grew, or, rather, refused to grow, in our front yard at home; and thus they have ever attracted me exceedingly--the charm of rarity and novelty being added for me to their exceeding beauty. And yet, if brought up among them, I might but have loved them more. For all I know of philosophy, if I had been earlier familiar with shrubs, hedges, groups, cedared cliffs, and tall forests of evergreens, they might have brought me still nobler conceptions, a more exquisite sense of beauty, than they now do. Be that as it may, two years 'among the pines' of Virginia and her piny mountains, have enriched my mind with rare pictures of scenic beauty that shall keep fresh and green in memory while memory endures! I am no botanist, I have made no studies of the evergreens, nor shall I attempt to write of them as scholar or critic, but only as a fascinated observer. I neither care to know or tell whether the shrubs and trees in my evergreen pictures are angiosperms or gymnosperms; we have no 'transportation' for text books for students! During these two years, however, I have been charmed with a thousand views of landscape scenery, embracing every form, hue, and combination of our lovely native evergreens, whether on mountain, hill, or plain. I have seen them along winding streams, with backgrounds of bold, rocky bluffs; sweeping across undulating plains; rising with the uplifting mountains; peering into and over romantic mountain gorges; and growing up through the interstices of bowldered cascades. Or, standing on the mountain peaks, I have seen them sweep away into the vastness and grandeur of mighty, varied, and almost boundless expanse. These are but parts of my evergreen pictures. I have looked upon a simple holly bush when the wind of winter was upon it, scattering in lovely fragments its pure white robe of snow, revealing the gleaming of the rich green leaves, and the half-hidden clusters of the carmine berries. Three distinct colors thrown carelessly together, but no want of harmony--only pure and exquisite beauty!