plings upon a piece of fresh ground prepared for their reception by
fire. Thus fire, the great destroyer of the sequoia, also furnishes the
bare ground required for its growth from the seed. Fresh ground is,
however, furnished in sufficient quantities for the renewal of the
forests without the aid of fire--by the fall of old trees. The soil is
thus upturned and mellowed, and many trees are planted for every one
that falls.

It is constantly asserted in a vague way that the Sierra was vastly
wetter than now, and that the increasing drought will of itself
extinguish the sequoia, leaving its ground to other trees supposed
capable of flourishing in a drier climate. But that the sequoia can and
does grow on as dry ground as any of its present rivals is manifest in
a thousand places. "Why, then," it will be asked, "are sequoias always
found only in well-watered places?" Simply because a growth of sequoias
creates those streams. The thirsty mountaineer knows well that in every
sequoia grove he will find running water, but it is a mistake to suppose
that the water is the cause of the grove being there; on the contrary,
the grove is the cause of the water being there. Drain off the water
and the trees will remain, but cut off the trees, and the streams will
vanish. Never was cause more completely mistaken for effect than in the
case of these related phenomena of sequoia woods and perennial streams.

When attention is called to the method of sequoia stream-making, it will
be apprehended at once. The roots of this immense tree fill the ground,
forming a thick sponge that absorbs and holds back the rain and melting
snow, only allowing it to ooze and flow gently. Indeed, every fallen
leaf and rootlet, as well as long clasping root, and prostrate trunk,
may be regarded as a dam hoarding the bounty of storm-clouds, and
dispensing it as blessings all through the summer, instead of allowing
it to go headlong in short-lived floods.

Since, then, it is a fact that thousands of sequoias are growing
thriftily on what is termed dry ground, and even clinging like mountain
pines to rifts in granite precipices, and since it has also been shown
that the extra moisture found in connection with the denser growths is
an effect of their presence, instead of a cause of their presence, then
the notions as to the former extension of the species and its near
approach to extinction, based upon its supposed dependence on greater
moisture, are seen to be