206 



TRANSPLANTING ON THE PRAIRIE SOD, &c. 



rie, and who live on, from year to year, 

 without a tree to interrupt the scorching 

 rays of the summer's sun, or relieve the 

 tedious monotony incident to open prairie 

 situations, or break the piercing blasts of 

 winter, because, forsooth, some one has 

 told them that trees will not grow in the 

 sod ; and they can never get the time to 

 break up their enclosures, or something 

 turns up to prevent them. I repeat, I dwell 

 on it for the purpose of impressing it on 

 the minds of such as these, — that trees will 

 grow there if rightly managed. 



"Oh, but," says one, "it is so much 

 trouble, digging such a great big hole, — 4 

 to 6 feet across, and IS inches to 2 feet 

 deep, in tough prairie sod." Well, my 

 good fellow, if it's your calculation to get 

 through this world without trouble, and 

 with as little mental or physical exertion 

 as possible, I advise you not to bother your 

 brains about embellishing your home with 

 trees. These directions are not addressed 

 to you. Pass on to some more congenial 

 subject. But to those who are disposed to 

 put themselves to the trouble of transplant- 

 ing trees into such situations, I would put 

 this question, and they can make the cal- 

 culation for themselves. How much more 

 trouble is it to dig up one tree, with roots 

 sufficient to fill a hole 5 feet across and 

 18 inches deep, set it, and loosen the soil 

 about it three or four times during the sea- 

 son, than to transplant a dozen into holes 

 the size and shape of a wash-bowl, drive 

 up stakes by each one and tie them, to 

 prevent the wind upsetting them, water a 

 dozen trees the first two months, half a 

 dozen the next two, and so on, the labor 

 diminishing as they gradually die ofF, until, 

 at the end of eighteen months, a little 

 stunted, scrubby, sickly looking thing, 

 which, by courtesy, is called a shade tree, 

 remains to disfigure, instead of embellish- | 



ing your grounds ? This is no fancy sketch. 

 I have seen this very process gone through 

 with often. 



I shall now proceed to notice a subject of 

 far more importance, in a pecuniary point 

 of view, to farmers living remote from tim- 

 ber, than that of growing trees for shade 

 and embellishment ; and that is, the grow- 

 ing of timber for fences and fuel. It has 

 often been a matter of surprise to me, 

 while travelling through the extensive prai- 

 ries of the west, to find so few of the farm- 

 ers turning their attention to the raising of 

 timber. 



Many of them haul all their timber 

 three, four and five, and some as much as 

 ten miles, year after year, through rain, 

 snow and mud ; whereas, by about ten 

 days' labor each spring, for three years in 

 succession, they might, in the course of 

 ten years, have an abundance of timber for 

 fencing and fuel, — two of the most impor- 

 tant items in a prairie farmer's account. 

 I now have growing about 3000 Locusts, 

 which I set out last spring, besides some 

 2000, still in the nursery, which I design 

 transplanting into the grove next spring. 

 Although I kept no account of expenses, I 

 have no idea the 3000 I transplanted last 

 spring have cost me, from the gathering of 

 the seed to this present moment, (allowing 

 a fair compensation for the labor bestowed 

 upon them,) 50 cents a hundred, or 5 dol- 

 lars a thousand. From this time hence- 

 forth, they will be no expense. 



My mode of transplanting them from 

 the nursery was as follows : I had the 

 ground broken up very deeply, and laid ofl* 

 four feet apart each way. I then cut the 

 tops off the scions close to the ground, dug 

 them up with a spade, and cut the tap root 

 off pretty close. The only advantage that 

 I recognise in cutting off the tap root is, 

 that they are easier set. I then com- 



