ANOTHER HARDY GARDEN BOOK 



every place both large and small was neatly 

 kept and generally well planted, I came one 

 day, when walking, upon a man engaged in 

 setting out a row of trees along the road 

 in front of a house. They were pin oaks, 

 unusually fine young trees, and the row of 

 them was probably a hundred and fifty feet 

 long. The ignorant creature had dug holes 

 barely deep enough to cover the roots in 

 the clay soil, which was like hard pan. This 

 he did not pulverize or loosen, but merely 

 hollowed out a sort of basin, the bottom 

 and sides of which were perfectly smooth 

 and hard. Into these hollows the roots of 

 the trees were placed, and the earth, full 

 of pieces of sand-stone, was then shovelled 

 back upon them. For three successive days 

 I returned to see these trees and their 

 planting, which the man finished in this 

 time, and observed that no good earth, no 

 fertilizer, no mulch was used, and that 

 during that time none of the trees were 

 watered. How can even a brave and hardy 

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