The landscape was desolation itself, and I doubt that even the moors of Devonshire could present a more bleak and melancholy appearance than these ravaged pineries. In every direction could be seen the work of the ax and the saw, and for mile after dreary mile we passed through the remains of a great dead forest. Indeed, I could not help but feel as though we had ventured into some vast burying ground, its memorials formed by huge stumps that, for as far as the eye could see, rose out of the withered earth like tombstones.
