Yet strangely enough, the Sequoia appears untouched by the forces of decay. This tale of a struggle into being, of a life lived, of decay and death, is written on all of Nature’s works. The way of life and its destined end is toward oblivion. But causes that conspire to bring about the end of trees in general appear unable to quench the vitality within a Sequoia. It rarely ever shows the slightest evidence of weakness, and appears never to be defiled by the ravages of disease. Injuries only of the greatest magnitude are a source of irrecoverable loss. Indeed, Sequoias that have great holes burned in them are magnificent in their refusal to accept defeat. They summon their splendid resources, clutch the soil with a broader and deeper hold in their determination to enjoy life to the very last. So long as there is a sound root left, it is the way of a Sequoia to cling to life. No one who has an appreciation of the wonders of Nature can behold this grim, steadfast, dogged resolution that prevails against all odds without feeling the beauty of such an unconquerable spirit. The wood of the Sequoia seems to be provided with every refinement of durability. Natural decomposition is slow and its wood wastes away insensibly like granite. So resistant is it to weather, to the rigorous and incessant forces of obliteration, that it is hardly an exaggeration to affirm “that a log cabin built of Giant Sequoia logs on granite will last as long as its foundation.” The resinous matters that pervade wood are considered a preservative against decay. Hardwood has always been indicative of durability, whereas the wood of the Sequoia is soft and brittle. But for all its softness and lack of resin, though hoary and mossy with age, and deformed by centuries of violent storms, the Sequoia is nearly always sound _from the sapwood to the center_, and this is more than can be said of nearly all the “remarkable and curious cases” of trees that have enjoyed a great longevity as cited by Asa Gray.