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TEEATME>rr OF WOODS. 



sistont with the least deteriomtion of the permanent value of the forest, is a question 

 that more iiuinodiately concerns the land owner. The oak is the most valuahle of all 

 our woods. It is the most generally diffused, and it is put to the greatest number of 

 good uses. It is well known hat the most valuable timber is that which has attained 

 its growth with most light and air. The Avagon-maker takes care to combine tough- 

 ness and durability, by selecting his wood from trees of "second growth," or from 

 trees of first growth that from inf;incy have stood alone or far apart. Acting on this 

 hint, we would cull out first such of the oaks as are unsound, giving those that are 

 left more light and air. It is a fact in vegetable physiology, that motion facilitates 

 circulation, and that young trees confined to stakes do not form their bodies so rapidly 

 as when left to the moving influences of the breeze. The thinning should be carefully 

 effected too ; for the sudden exposure of the body of a tree to the light, after it has 

 been shielded for centuries from the rays of the sun, is frequently fatal to it. The 

 growth of a tree that has always been closely hemmed in, and guarded by its fellows, 

 has a form so different from one of the same species that has sprung up and come to 

 maturity in the open ground, that the identity would scarcely be recognized. Thus, 

 the black walnut in the forest is a tall, naked shaft, with often but a few short 

 branches at its top ; while in the open field it grows low, round, and spreading. I 

 have often recommended the whitewood for the avenue, or as a very fit tree for private 

 grounds, and have almost as often been asked if that tall, naked tree, out of which so 

 much lumber is made, could be beautiful. Here let me say that the very general 

 ignorance which exists of the difference in the beauty of pent up forest trees and those 

 that have had full exposure, is the great reason why ornamental trees for transplant- 

 ing are so seldom chosen from many of the more common forest varieties. How often 

 does the woodman's axe itch for contact with the tall, naked column of the white ash, 

 whose tempting softness is destined to be unfelt until he shall have disposed of some 

 harder but less valuable tree. As a lawn tree, that white ash becomes short and 

 round, close and symmetrical. 



The experiments of hundreds, in attempts to develop the sylvan beauties of wildwood, 

 have failed from sudden and indiscriminate thinning. I have seen the fruits of it on 

 my own ground. A narrow belt of forest, composed of oak, linden, hickory, and elm, 

 was left a few years ago on the front of a sloping field. Noble old oaks. some of them 

 were while standing in the thick forest. I have hoped that exposure to the light 

 would force them to throw out branches from their naked bodies, and that some of 

 these days a pretty grove would be the result, as many more sound trees of a younger 

 growth were left as body guards to shield their stems. These younger have done 

 their duty well ; but the old ones struggle on from year to year, and refuse to be 

 comforted by the youthful family around them. Some of them have thrown out a 

 few weakly branches, but as many more look as if beginning to decay. I shall, after 

 all, look to the second growth for my permanent and most beautiful shades. The 

 difficulty in my case was that the wood was too suddenly thinned. Two-thirds of the 

 large trees had been cut out of the belt nearly at once, judging from the appearance 

 stumps, and all the trees on either side. 



