that about the same season is often observed to spread itself through
individual trees of some particular species, all of which, deriving
their vital powers from the parent stock, are therefore incapable of
protracting their existence longer than it does.

In the same manner, efforts have been made by the mighty of the earth
to transplant large cities, states, and communities, by one great and
sudden exertion, expecting to secure to the new capital the wealth, the
dignity, the magnificent decorations and unlimited extent of the
ancient city, which they desire to renovate; while, at the same time,
they hope to begin a new succession of ages from the date of the new
structure, to last, they imagine, as long, and with as much fame, as
its predecessor, which the founder hopes his new metropolis may replace
in all its youthful glories. But nature has her laws, which seem to
apply to the social, as well as the vegetable system. It appears to be
a general rule, that what is to last long should be slowly matured and
gradually improved, while every sudden effort, however gigantic, to
bring about the speedy execution of a plan calculated to endure for
ages, is doomed to exhibit symptoms of premature decay from its very
commencement. Thus, in a beautiful Oriental tale, a dervise explains to
the sultan how he had reared the magnificent trees among which they
walked, by nursing their shoots from the seed; and the prince's pride
is damped when he reflects, that those plantations, so simply raised,
were gathering new vigour from each returning sun, while his own
exhausted cedars, which had been transplanted by one violent effort,
were drooping their majestic heads in the Valley of Orez. [Footnote:
Tale of Mirglip the Persian, in the Tales of the Genii.]

It has been allowed, I believe, by all men of taste, many of whom have
been late visitants of Constantinople, that if it were possible to