FORESTRY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 



BY BRISTOW ADAMS 



Common Sense and Christmas Trees 



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VERY nice, kind 

 lady wrote me a 

 letter the other 

 day and asked me 

 to do all I could to 

 put a stop to the 

 slaughter of the 

 poor, little, inno- 

 cent Christmas 

 trees. I showed 

 the letter to the 

 children and they 

 did not feel that 

 way about it. The writer proposed a 

 number of things to take the place of the 

 tree, but not one of the ideas seemed to 

 find favor. We talked it all over very 

 thoroughly, and then put the question to 

 a vote, — as to whether we would have a 

 tree this year. At the mere prospect of 

 not having one, the two boys were very 

 downcast. 



The nearest that we came to falling in 

 with the ideas of the writer of the letter 

 was when Eleanor, the oldest, said that 

 she really did not need a tree, " but it 

 wouldn't be half so Christmas-y without 

 one." Then she added, from the great 

 wisdom of her thirteen years, " The 

 boys are so young yet that they ought to 

 have a little one, at least." The boys 

 did not care to be patronized, and taunted 

 their older sister with the tale of how 

 she had been the one who wanted to 

 cut down three or four trees last year, 

 when we went out to the woodlot. 



We did cut three, as I remember. We 

 wanted a spruce or balsam, but were 

 saving the spruces to grow into larger 

 trees, and we could find no balsams. So 

 we got a fairly stocky hemlock. When 

 we got home we bored holes through the 

 stem from all sides, and stuck in branches 

 from the other trees, driving a nail 

 through to hold each branch so it would 

 not twist sideways, or turn down. The 

 extra branches were used for wreaths 

 and for spots of green around the rooms. 

 When Christmas week was over, we 

 took pruning shears and saw, and cut the 

 tree into fagots right where it stood in the 

 room. Then we burned these, with 



merry cracklings, in the open fireplace; 

 it gave us a woodsy, camp-fire smell, and 

 we sat around and told stories until every 

 little " smidgeon " was burned up. Of 

 course, we first took off all the tinsel and 

 toys, all the blown-glass and spun-glass 

 figures, the gilded balls and the gay paper 

 chains. These were put away in the 

 Christmas Box, to be brought out again, 

 with some new ones, for the next time. 



EVERY year some one starts a crusade 

 against the Christmas tree idea, 

 and every year I wonder why they 

 do not do the same thing against 

 the Easter Hly and the football-game 

 chrysanthemum. In Michigan there is a 

 nursery which grows Christmas trees as 

 a regular annual crop; in New England 

 the farmers cut hundreds of thousands 

 out of their fields for the city boys and 

 girls, some of whom rarely get in any clo- 

 ser touch with trees than they do in this 

 holiday season. Every year the dairy 

 farmers in the hill counties of New York 

 welcome the chance to get rid of the 

 spruces which work into their pastures 

 and use up space that might be growing 

 grass for the cows. The more our family 

 has thought about the use of Christmas 

 trees, the more we have been in favor 

 of them. 



ONE person says, "let's all do with- 

 out Christmas trees ; or, if we must 

 have them, let every one plant two 

 trees for the one that is used on 

 Christmas." Now that might be a good 

 idea in some few places. But how about 

 the many children who live in tenements in 

 the crowded parts of the cities? Are they 

 to go without this one glimpse of green- 

 ness, or attempt to make two trees grow 

 in a paved court-yard? Even in the large 

 and elegant apartment houses the mighty 

 janitor could not provide places for two 

 trees for the children who live there. Oh, 

 yes, there are some apartment houses 

 that take children. I've seen 'em! 



Then there are the children on the 

 farm, where father has brought in the 

 home tree from the back pasture, and 

 has sent John down to the freight station, 



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