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FORESTRY FOR BOYS AND GIRLS 



BY BRISTOW ADAMS 



SOME FOREST HISTORY 





HE gorge is 

 roaring to- 

 night, and I can 

 hear it plainly 

 as I sit writing, 

 even though the 

 windows are 

 closed. While 

 it is spring, 

 there is still a 

 chill in the air 

 and frosts are 

 yet common. 

 But the days 

 are fine so that we can all walk abroad and 

 seek out the first spring flowers. When we 

 were out today we could smell the scent of 

 new earth almost as if we were following 

 the plow; yet there was no earth turned, 

 and we noted that the odor came from 

 the gorge itself, as the water carried 

 down the flood that came from the thaw- 

 ing ground. The spray from the falls 

 tainted the air with the good earthy 

 smell, but I was sorry to know that all 

 that good earth was going to waste. The 

 falls made a grand sight with so much 

 water going over them, but were not 

 lace-like and white as they are in summer. 

 As Everett said, they looked " like a 

 great flood of chocolate with whipped 

 cream." 



The water that trickles down the sides 

 of the gorge, where it is too steep to have 

 farm land, is crystal clear as it flows 

 from the mosses, ferns, Canada yew, and 

 other undergrowth. The hemlocks, pines, 

 ash trees, chestnuts, oaks, maples, and 

 hickories find a foothold wherever they 

 can, and cling along the ledges. From a 

 distance the gorge is a dark blue-gray 

 in winter, and a strip of deep green in 

 the summer, where the bordering trees 

 stand out in the midst of the upland fields 

 on either side. As we walked, we talked, 

 and I made a guess that when the Indians 

 lived here the water did not come down 

 in such floods and did not get so muddy. 



AT ONCE tbe boys were filled with 

 - questionings: "Did the Indians 

 ever really live here? How could they 

 keep the water from being muddy? What 

 kind of Indians were they? Did they 

 have bow'n'arrows? " And there were 

 about twenty more, all in a breath! 



" Hold on a minute," said I, " this is 

 history you are getting into, and Gertrude 

 hates history." 



" I should say I do," replied Gertrude, 

 " nothing but dates, and names of old- 

 time ginks, and fights ! " 



Somehow, I could not quite disagree 

 with the younger girl, because I had 

 seen her trying to learn some of these 

 same names and dates. As for myself, 

 there is only one date that I am sure of 

 in American history, and that is the land- 

 ing of the Pilgrims in 1620. The reason 

 I know that is because I had to stay in 

 after school, when I was nine years old, 

 and write " The Pilgrims landed in 1620 " 

 five hundred times before I could go out 

 into just such a fine spring day as this has 

 been. But I remember those Pilgrims and 

 the time they landed to this very day 



Gertrude's mind was diverted from 

 history in a moment, and she came down 

 to present-day facts all of a sudden. 

 " You ought not to fuss at us for getting 

 kept in after school," said she, " because 

 you did it your own self." 



Everett came to the rescue with further 

 questions about the Indians, and about 

 what they had to do with the clearness of 

 the water ; so I was glad to try to satisfy his 

 curiosity in some such way as this : 



WHEN those Pilgrim Fathers landed, 

 there were not so very many people 

 in this country, and these were the 

 Indians. They did not have large farms 

 or cities as we have. They had villages, 

 and in the level spaces, like the low land 

 near the head of the lake, they grew 

 some corn and tobacco, and a few other 

 crops. All the rest was forest, where 



