156 MINNESOTA STATE HORTICULTURAL SOCIETY. 



work was destroyed, the tenant using the grounds around the residence 

 for pasturage purposes, the trees, of course, suffering. In a fit of despair 

 the place was sold at a sacrifice. 



But it is during the last year or two that I have become an enthu- 

 siast, rivalling in my enthusiasm even that of the crusaders. They had a 

 purpose, so have I. It is to aid both by voice and pen to the best of my 

 ability the planting of trees on our bleak prairies. Here in Watertown, 

 with at present only limited ground-room. I have planted trees and shrubs 

 in goodly number. While knowing nothing scientific, fair success at- 

 tends my efforts. The trees are watched; if a worm makes its appear- 

 ance, it is quickly ushered out of existence; if there is anything I don't un- 

 derstand, I write and find out if a possible thing. Of course, watchful care is 

 given everything growing under my supervision and habits studied as time 

 affords. Mr. J. O. Barrett, the secretary of Minnesota Forestry Association, 

 is responsible to a large extent for the zeal I display in forestry matters. 



Almost the first thing I ask a new farmer acquaintance is, "Have you 

 any trees on your farm?" If he says "no," my heart sinks. He is urged 

 to plant. If no interest is shown by him, if he is careless or sajs, "I don't 

 care for trees, they are too much trouble and cost more than they 

 are worth," or if he says, "I have planted trees but they won't grow," I 

 feel ugly and ask myself, "why is it that such are allowed to share in the 

 benefits this prairie affords?" I can't believe this state of ours was intend- 

 ed to be left treeless. In my opinion it was the intention of the great 

 Gardener that we should make of it a wonderland, which we can with per- 

 severance, intelligence and energy. The soil is here, subdue it we must: 

 but thousands of acres in prime condition for tree planting are yearly 

 plowed by men too stingy or too lazy to indulge in the pleasures of mak- 

 ing a home in the truest sense of the term. Winds sweep across our 

 prairies, in the summer hot and blighting at times, in the winter they 

 chill one to the marrow. It is in our power to say to the winds (except 

 when they come in their resistless fury, which is rare indeed), "peace, be 

 still." 



Groves and shelter belts will do the work. Trees planted as they should 

 be in sufficient numbers will give our state a new and improved appear- 

 ance and will put wealth into the pockets of their owners. , Our state can 

 be made beautiful beyond the power of pen to describe or brush portray. 

 Suppose each brook or creek was bordered with trees, would not the 

 waters sing more merrily? Would not their laughter be sweeter for it? 

 As the waters of the creeks joyously rush to form more noble streams, 

 would it not be an inspiration for us to do more? Let the careless dweller 

 in South Dakota picture to himself the rivers of our state, skirted with 

 generous plantings of timber, forming ribbons of silver as they find 

 their way into the fickle Missouri. Take our lakes, surround them 

 with timber; what a change there would be, each lake a jewel beyond 

 price in settings of choicest emerald; the waters flashing back to the 

 caressing sun their thankfulness, would well repay any efforts expended. 

 Trees would help our streams— of that we are certain— and shelter us from 

 the winds, with equal certainty. We are told forests are great protections 

 against hail storms. There are other benefits, also. 



There have been many failures among tree planters in our state, and I 

 am inclined to believe it is to a certain extent because we have not 

 planted the right sorts. The Russian poplar and willows arp highly 



