HEDGES. 149 



HEDGES. 



A BUCKTHORN HEDGE. 



BY PROF. W. W. PENDERGAST, ST. ANTHONY PARK. 



As far as my individual observation has extended there are but few or- 

 namental trees and shrubs that are in the most exposed situation, abso- 

 lutely hardy and reliable in this state. Scores of varieties like the soft 

 maple, ash, box elder and Cottonwood are usually reckoned among the 

 ironclads, but in trying situations they are frequently injured and some- 

 times killed outright by our cold, dry winters, but there is probably not an 

 acre of good arable land in Minnesota upon which the English buckthorn 

 will not flourish 'mid all vicissitudes of weather, bidding defiance alike to 

 the severest frosts of winter and the parching, dissolving heats of summer. 

 When everything else in the garden and on the lawn is suffering from the 

 touch of an unkind season, the buckthorn hedge, with the lilac for its 

 almost sole companion, stands out fresh and unscathed, sound and bright 

 to the very tip of every lithe and graceful twig. If it were not as beauti- 

 ful as it is, its perfect hardiness and vigor should recommend it and cause 

 it to be sought for by those— and "their name is legion" — who, in the past, 

 thinking to adorn their homes with trees which the most inclement season 

 could not scar, have been disappointed and found their hopes withering 

 with the branches to which they had been looking for shade and pro- 

 tection. 



While attending Phillip's Academy at Exeter, 1ST. H., more than forty 

 years ago, my attention was constantly attracted to the elegant hedge 

 rows that bordered the sidewalks fencing the beautiful gardens with 

 which that dreamy old New England village abounded. Nothing that I 

 had seen in the way of ornamentation of gardens and grounds made so 

 marked and enduring an impression as these neat and well trimmed 

 hedges, and then and there I resolved that sometime in the dim and 

 shadowy future if the "fates" should prove propitious, I would have a 

 garden fenced in by a buckthorn hedge, little dreaming at the time that 

 the garden and hedge would be on the sunset side of the Falls of St. 

 Anthony, which my boy's eye had discovered marked upon my Malte 

 Bruner Atlas in the "northwest territory", far beyond the confines of civili- 

 zation. But the unexpected is what usually happens, and twenty years 

 from the time my good resolution was formed in Exeter, I was planting a 

 buckthorn hedge in front of my garden in Hutchinson, Minnesota. It 

 may be well to remark here, that this work was done with much fear and 

 misgiving. I had met with so many reverses before, where much had 

 been expected that there seemed to be small reason for hope or encourage- 

 ment, but unlike many previous ventures in arboriculture this was a most 

 gratifying and complete success. Cor trary to expectation the seeds germi- 

 nated well; not a tree was lost in transplanting and but one has died in 

 the twenty years that the hedge has been set, and that was in some way 

 injured at the root. Aside from that one tree, not a branch has ever with- 

 ered nor has the outmost bud ever failed to grow. It is more vigorous 

 and hardy than the wild plum and bears pruning better. No matter how 

 severely cut back it soon puts forth new branches and is as green and 

 thrifty as before it felt the shears. It smiles with equal serenity upon 

 the most savage blizzard of January and the fiercest heats of July. The 



