They are the sole survivors of a former commonwealth of seedlings. In company with a community of tiny trees they began their lives on ground cleared for their reception by the fall of a giant of a former generation or by a ground fire. Either of these agents exposed the mineral soil so necessary to the life of the germinating seed. Sunlight, too, must have been sifted down in proper amounts since but little shade can be endured at any stage of the Sequoia’s existence. Even then the hold this zealous crop of seedlings had on life was precarious. From the instant they cast their tiny shadows on the ground, excessive moisture, erosion, and wind threatened their existence. Indeed, many must have perished in their earliest infancy from these dangers. As soon, however, as their branches and their roots began to interfere with each other, a struggle of yet another sort ensued, and each seedling began to battle fiercely with its neighbors for light and nourishment. At the same time each exerted a beneficial influence over the other by preventing the winds from drying out the soil or the rains from carrying it away. Each was a member of a “protective union,” mutually making for better conditions of growth which gave them greater strength to carry on the fight for life. Strangely enough, each continually comforted and assisted while at the same time attempting to destroy each other, for they were the most deadly of enemies. Each was shouting “excelsior” and endeavoring to rear its head above those of its fellows in the race for the skies. “Aspire or die,” became the watchword of the group. Gradually the most fit of the Sequoian youths over-topped their slower rivals, eventually shutting off their share of sunlight and ultimately snuffing out their lives. For generations this struggle toward the sun went on, as terrible as it was silent, each survivor eliminating its rivals. And all the while the sun, the one object of this eternal striving, neither knew or apparently cared.