ForEstTry, 15 
years old, averaging 100 feet in height, with 40, 50, 60 feet of 
glorious clean boles. I don’t know the like of this wood, as it 
must have been, if it be not the forest of Cour Chevernay, on the 
Loire (opposite Blois). Twenty years ago, there cannot have 
been less than 9000 or 10,000 cubic feet per acre, which, taken 
at only Is a foot, represents a value on the 50 acres of some 
£25,000, or £500 an acre. Who could have blamed the owner 
had he treated this woodland as a crop? Well, all his neighbours 
would have blamed him bitterly, so deeply rooted has become 
our habit of looking upon woodland merely as an extra—a luxury 
—a playground. And yet I maintain that it was folly not to turn 
this timber to account. For look you what has happened. My 
friend had all the amateur love of trees which is characteristic of 
English country gentlemen. About twenty years ago, thinking to 
improve the landscape, he had glades cut in this noble grove, and 
thinned out the whole of it severely. His grandfather, if he 
knew his business, may have warned him what must happen if 
pure oak high wood is suddenly converted into trees in open order. 
If he did so, his advice was disregarded : the owner knew what he 
wanted, but the result has been far different. Nearly every tree 
has become stag-headed, and thrown out an eruption of growth 
all along the stems and branches. The grove has been ruined. 
My friend did me the honour to ask my opinion. If I had 
given it, he would have called me a beggarly Scot, so I held my 
peace—even from good. But I had no doubt what a good 
forester’s advice would be. Fell all the remaining trees and 
tre-plant. As near as I could judge, there seemed to be an 
average of thirty oaks left on every acre. ‘These cannot be worth 
less than £7 10s a-piece standing, or an aggregate of £11,300 on 
the fifty acres. I have purposely put this calculation very low, 
for I was shown where one of these oaks had been felled recently, 
and the timber sold for £20. But I know what will happen. 
My friend loves his trees ; he will never harden his heart to part 
with them ; they will go from bad to worse, and the greater part of 
this money will be sacrificed. The future of these noble trees 
will be like that of the mournful ruins of Cadzow Forest, Lanark- 
shire. 
LANDOWNERS’ OBjEcts. 
Now, one must take things as one finds them, even if one 
may entertain a hope that better understanding may prevail some 
