Unfortunately, Endlicher failed to make a statement concerning the origin of the word Sequoia, leaving its meaning to be inferred. Gordon in his _Pinetum_ stated that it was probably derived from the Latin for “sequence,” alluding to the fact that the Redwood was “a follower or remnant of several extinct colossal species.” Kotch was inclined to hold the name in light estimation, claiming its source to be entirely fanciful. De Candolle, a contemporary with Endlicher, thought it of California origin, probably taken “from some native word and written more or less correctly.” But others have kept their heads better in the matter. Both Hooker and Englemann believed it derived from the Cherokee Indian, Sequoyah. At least, it is edifying to know that Endlicher was an eminent linguist as well as a botanist. It is not improbable, then, that he was acquainted with Sequoyah’s colorful career and named the tree in honor of this aboriginal illiterate, this magnificent savage, who groped in darkness to give his people letters, and found the light. +Chapter IX+ SEQUOYAH Had Sequoyah lived thirty centuries ago, Plutarch, and after him Shakespeare, would have made him immortal. Had he invented an alphabet then, similar to that which he invented for his people, the Cherokees, he would have been hailed as one of the benefactors of the human race. But as it is, the world’s knowledge concerning his achievement may be said to sleep. The records of his life are hidden from the average reader, while his fame is suffering the fate of many worthy of antiquity—perishing from memory for want of an historian. Already the twilight of uncertainty is throwing its shadows across his history. Yet no savage is more worthy of remembrance. The life of Sequoyah was radiant with the prime quality of greatness—_virtue_. It is true that mankind admires the men and women of the past who have spoken great words, done great deeds, and suffered noble sorrows. Few of these, however, possess that quality of virtue which inspires emulation. Indeed, only those whose names are written in gold on the sombre chronicles of the past inspire to imitation. Sequoyah’s achievement easily entitles him a place among the great characters of all time, while his life of service stirs a strong desire to emulate, for he strove to save his unhappy race from extinction in the noblest way a savage ever sought. Despite this, his name and fame go untrumpeted and unsung. Meanwhile mankind is frantically fashioning statues to rest idly on pedestals, or building magnificent edifices whose marbles glisten in the sunlight, in commemoration of men of frailer virtue. Yet Sequoyah’s name is borne by apartment houses and tomato cans. Apparently it remains for the most gigantic and remarkable tree on the surface of the globe, the Sequoia, to save his name from oblivion and to attempt to correct the indifference of a so-called superior race.