THE ANNUAL MEETING. 203 



The usual crops would fail, and fruitful fields become barren. Where 

 "Plenty" once "sat smiling at the door," gaunt famine would stalk abroad. 

 There is another picture, more pleasing and no less truthful. It is the effect 

 of an opposite practice. The buildings are sheltered by trees; groves and 

 clumps of trees occupy all the waste lands; the waysides are set thickly with 

 overhanging trees; permanent lanes are marked by lines of trees; wind-breaks 

 are located to subserve their purpose. The perspective landscape in the summer 

 is green and grey, while the autumn adds manifold other colorings to perfect the 

 picture. Not only is the aesthetic but the practical also is subserved. Kain- 

 falls are more intermittent, and the danger of desolating droughts less threat- 

 ening. I need not attempt to prove this, — the evidence is all toward this con- 

 clusion. Look on this picture and then on that, and say if the planting of trees 

 is not a duty that all good citizens owe to posterity. This duty becomes more 

 imperative upon each succeeding generation, as the native trees gradually dis- 

 appear. How many homes all over the land are adorned with trees set on that 

 memorable April day in our centennial year. If an Arbor Day in the spring 

 of each year could be so well observed, how much would be accomplished in 

 our day. The work of replanting the ravaged land would be given a fresh 

 impetus. We have not yet fully purged ourselves of the inherited desire to 

 completely rid the land of its growth of timber. When this vandal desire for 

 cutting is supplanted by the laudable desire for planting, then will the waste 

 places be clothed again in nature's own vesture, and the barren spots around 

 our homes become very glory corners where intelligent ease shall swing his 

 hammock and rejoice in his bequest. How living and lasting an epitaph is a 

 grove of trees planted by some early pioneer. I have several such now in my 

 mind, and there are more scattered throughout all the older settled portions 

 of our State. They tell a lorecasting of the future that is little less than 

 prophetic. How we venerate the dead, in the enjoyment of the living tree. 

 Spreading maples shading the wayside are a constant reminder to the passing 

 traveler of him who planted them, while the stately column in the wayside 

 cemetery is passed unheeded by. "There are books in trees," yea, and on 

 every leaf a tribute to him who planted it. 



Following in the same line of thought, Mr. Charles Arnold, of Ontario, 

 spoke in rhyme of 



THE OLD KENTISH CHERRY. 



When now I look back to when I was a boy, 

 And muse on those objects that then gave me joy, 

 Though few things of childhood in manhood will please, 

 There's sometimes a life-long attachment to trees. 

 Some flow'ret or shrub, in our garden or lawn, 

 Oft carries us back to life's earliest dawn; 

 And there's nothing impress'd on my memory more plain 

 Than the old Kentish Cherry that grows in our lane. 



The Snow-Drop and Crocus, the vanguard of spring — 

 "What bright recollections these little flowers bring. 

 The Daphne Mezereon, whose venturesome flower 

 Sends forth its fragrance with the first April shower; 

 Our own native Balsam, with its silvery spray, 

 And that noble old evergreen Spruce of Norway — 

 These all have their charms, but my thoughts turn again 

 To the old Kentish Cherry that grows in our lane. 



