CHAPTER XL MORALS OF ELM 

 TREES AND CUTWORMS 



IN Oregon, where I was brought up, people 

 used to hate trees, particularly the big ones. 

 Why? Because their room was preferred 

 to their company. There were a few large 

 and astonishingly fertile regions, notably 

 the Willamette, Rogue River, and Umqua 

 Valleys, ready for the plow and the hoe, but 

 elsewhere, if a settler wanted a home he had to 

 begin by making a "clearing" that is, he had 

 to chop down and burn giant trees and painfully 

 dig out the stumps before tilth was possible. 



Though an Oregonian, I never shared the 

 general hatred of trees, possibly because I 

 didn't have to dig out stumps. We lived in the 

 Willamette Valley. We owned hundreds of 

 the jumbo trees, but as we had plenty of arable 

 land for garden and orchard we left them alone. 

 Now, alas ! they are all gone, turned into boards, 

 planks, and shingles. It almost makes me weep 

 to think of it. 



While I have always admired and defended 

 trees, I must say there are things about them 

 I do not like. Their moral character is deplor- 

 able. In front of my window there are two 

 stately elms of the finest New England stock, 

 and three splendid maple trees, sweet, graceful, 

 and umbrageous. To the eye nothing could be 

 more beautiful, ingratiating, and altruistic; but 

 beneath this fair exterior there is utter selfish- 



