Time and the Tree ii 



home; it is only the nest for the children; and the 

 young birds do not know the value of the old nest ; 

 they seek their own. Can our fruit-farm become 

 as the nest to the birds of the forest, or be home to 

 our children as it has been home to us? The 

 answer must be as the way of the world, — each 

 after its kind. I have never known a man to think 

 as highly of his father's house as of the house he 

 builds for himself. Time and the Tree make the 

 fruit-farm, but the tree must grow under your 

 own hands and within your time. There are 

 bridges which carry one generation over into 

 another. Sometimes children and grandchildren 

 play about the fruit-farm and a new sowing of 

 associations is made, a new harvest gathered. 

 From father to son; from son to grandson the 

 fruit-farm passes, each generation like the Tree 

 which Time grows on the place: an embodiment 

 of associations; memories in the flesh. Doubtless 

 as land becomes valuable in America, and the 

 struggle for a livelihood the sharper, families will 

 cling to the fruit-farm as a protection, an anchor 

 to windward, a safe investment, a dependable 

 source of a livelihood. The land of New York 

 City has as great commercial value as all the farm 

 land between the Mississippi and the Atlantic 

 north of Georgia. Its value lies in its scarcity 

 and the profitable use, largely the monopoly use, 

 that can be made of it. Farm values are higher 

 in America to-day than ever before, and they 

 increase faster than population. 



