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elation like this, as I have said, it is not necessary for me to discuss liere, in the presence 

 of those who know by experience how trees and shrubs should be grouped ; who have 

 learned that an evergreen should be transplanted in August, and that a little lime and 

 muck applied to the roots when it is planted will give it a wonderful stimulus ; who 

 understand that a plantation of trees should be made to suit the building it is to sur- 

 round and the landscape it is to occupy ; that trees should not be planted too near a 

 building, or too near each other ; that the plants nearest the house should be low in 

 stature and of a beautiful sort ; that the shades of green should be properly blended, and 

 the foliage selected accordingly ; that trees should be protected by each other against 

 those winds which are obnoxious to them ; that the Norway will not bear the rough gales 

 from the sea, and that the Scotch pine rejoices in them ; that trees and plants should not 

 be " marshalled in regular order and at equal distances," like beaux and belles standing 

 up for a quadrille or country dance ; " that it is easier," as Downing says, " to make a 

 tasteful park by planting new trees than by thinning out an old forest, and that nature 

 herself is full of hints and suggestions," an observance of which constitutes the highest 

 art of which man is capable in all that work of which earth, sea and sky form a part. 

 With all this you have long been familiar, as the practicable part of a most agreeable 

 labor ; but for the trees themselves, these living monuments of nature's bounty, or of 

 man's skill ; those landmarks which we love to contemplate, those sentinels and armies 

 along the landscape ; those silent friends who somehow connect themselves with so many 

 of the dearest scenes and events of our lives, and watch over the graves of the departed 

 day and night, and through all the changing seasons — for the trees themselves let us say 

 a word. 



Beautiful Trees. 



Now I know not how it is, but next to the face of an old friend returned from along 

 absence, the sight of a landscape or a tree, once familiar and connected with the early 

 events of our lives, long lost and now bursting upon our vision, fills us with the tenderest 

 emotion. Who that has suddenly come upon a flower by the wayside in a foreign land, 

 which grew beside some well known path in the country of his home, has not been tilled 

 with sweet recollections and transported to that spot which will forever outshine the 

 glory of all others 1 



How often have we turned our eyes unexpecterlly upon a solitary tree keeping watch 

 and ward over a hillside pasture, and at once, as if the heavens had been opened, there 

 came a vision as dear to ns as the memory of that sacred band of the loved and lost ! 

 How often has a footpath, winding through the woods, opened suddenly upon us, and in 

 a moment a long past, and perhaps long-forgotten hour of joy, shone round about us? 

 The trees are indeed our companions, clothed by us with the most delightful associations, 

 appealing and responding at once to our sense of beauty, and preserving, as it were, 

 with tender care our choicest memories. Their story is all told and well told by the 

 young Indian who, in the midst of the splendor of Paris, regretting the simple beauty 

 of his native island, sprang forward at the unexpected sight of a banana tree in the 

 Jardin des Plantes, embraced it while his eyes were bathed in tears, and exclaiming 

 with a voice of joy, "Ah, tree of my country," seemed by a delightful illusion of sensi- 

 bility to imagine himself for a moment transported to the land which gave him birth. 



Trees of History. 



And then what a living and vital interest gathers about those trees which either by 

 accident or by design have become monumental and representative. To know them well 

 is to be intimate with the great deeds and the great men of history. Into what classic 

 associations and deeds of daring, and raging and majestic conflicts by land and by sea, 

 and profound mysteries and rites are we borne by the long and interesting stoiy of the 



the tree which Pliny says held " Tlonos aptul Romanos perpettms" — the highest honor 

 and repute with the Romans. We recall the solemn ceremonies of the Druids among 

 the oak groves which stood strong and solemn on English soil, during the morning 



