MONTEVIDEO TRIAL STATION. 67 



A European and an Asiatic— Perhaps the original home of the 

 Scotch rose, rose rugosissima, is not known; but it so happened at 

 Montevideo, that in front of a rough hillside, covered with Scotch 

 roses, there were planted a few specimens of the little Manchurian 

 maple (Acer Tartarica ginnala). When autumn came the foliage 

 of the Scotch roses turned to a deep rich brown, while in front of them 

 the Asiatic maples blazed in autumnal glory. They harmonized per- 

 fectly. Can it be possible that they had met before on the steppes 

 of Siberia and knew each other well? 



Our native prairie rose (Rosa Arkansana) does not take kindly to 

 cultivation; it does not like to be nursed and petted; but if you un- 

 dertake its extermination it will persist like original sin. It is 

 beautiful, too, in autumn when its leaves have changed to a deep 

 maroon, and is then seen at its best advantage among the brown 

 prairie grasses. 



No shrub lights up in autumn more gloriously than our native 

 sumac (Rhus glabra), but it is a little difficult to handle in the con- 

 ventional well kept garden. To be seen at its best advantage, it 

 needs for a background a copse of bur-oak, and it needs for a fore- 

 ground clusters of golden rod and horsemint. It looks best when a 

 little neglected, as if the gardener had gone away on a long visit or 

 had forgotten it. In such a situation, seen against the dark green 

 leaves of the bur-oak, as the summer days begin to lengthen into 

 autumn, the sumac runs the whole gamut of the color scale and 

 blazes forth into the most dazzlingly brilliant oranges and reds. It 

 is simplj^ unapproachable. -..x^'^ CD 



An Experiment That i^'ai'/ec/.— Speaking of the bur-oak, it is easy 

 to call it the finest western Minnesota tree. It ought to be planted 

 on the prairies everywhere. The common lilac is, doubtless, every- 

 thing considered, the best prairie shrub — and here it is proper to 

 record an experiment that failed. On a rough bluff that borders the 

 trial station grounds there grows a thrifty copse of bur-oak trees. 

 On the street side of the bur-oak thicket, there was a tangle of bitter- 

 sweet, wild grape vines and clematis. It was a spot that an artist 

 would delight in, but on an evil day the road-master attacked it 

 with his brush hook and " slicked it up." The bitter-sweet, the grape 

 vines and the clematis disappeared, and the oak trees were either 

 cut down or trimmed up. Perhaps, we ought not to blame him; he 

 did not have the eye of an artist, and he was unconcious, too, that 

 he had perpetrated a vandalism that could never be repaired. An 

 attempt was made to patch up the charred and mangled bur-oak 

 copse by planting lilac bushes. The lilacs grew and flourished, but 

 the result was inharmonious. In place of the artistic tangle that 

 the street commissioner had destroyed, there is now only jarring 

 discord. The leafy, umbrageous lilac from southeast Europe is 

 a stranger to the native Minnesota bur-oak. They do not harmonize. 



Two Picturesque Hardy Conifers. — The native red cedar (Junip- 

 erus Virginiana) is a rugged, picturesque tree of varying habit. Of 

 irregular and strong outline, one instinctively associates it with 

 rocky promontories and rugged banks. It grows well on the prai- 

 ries, and a well developed specimen is never commonplace. It is al- 



