Hiccory

[…] as we rode on, we saw gigantic pine, cedar, and hiccory trees, torn up by the roots, and scattered over the surrounding country, by by-gone hurricanes, many of them hundreds of yards from the spot that nurtured their roots—while the gnarled branches lying across our track, scorched black with the lightning, or from long exposure to a burning sun, impeded our advance, and made the journey anything but pleasant.

There the oak and hiccory grow tall and beautiful, but the general appearance of the country is poor, broken, and rugged.