RENOVATING THE DESERTED HOMESTEAD. 



family history. Here in this arbor sat our sainted 

 mother; here worked in this garden corner our 

 father. This tree was planted by a grandfather. 

 So everything gets to have a language, if not a 

 poetry. My own homestead was bought by my 

 father direct from the family to whom the Indians 

 donated the land. On a high knoll stands the group 

 of hemlocks of which the Oneida chief, Sconondoah, 

 said : "I am an aged hemlock ! The winds of a hun- 

 dred winters have whistled through my boughs." 

 These orchard trees were planted conjointly by this 

 same chieftain and his missionary friend, Dominie 

 Kirkland. The soil, the brooks, the rocks, the trees, 

 the glen, have associations that unite them together, 

 and give them an individuality. Every man should, 

 if possible, know the history of his own home whether 

 he knows the history of the United States or of the 

 Anglo-Saxon nations or not. It then falls to him 

 to add a chapter to this history, which is inherently 

 beautiful, and useful, and worthy of being carved 

 into trees, hedges, stone walls and buildings. 



Still you will have room for exercising the full 

 spirit and zeal of improvement. You will doubtless 

 find there are no driveways and hedges and shelters ; 

 or if any, that others are still needed. Wind- 

 breaks are likely to be found in abundance. Do not 

 let an ax touch an old clump of basswood, or a 

 thicket, or a tangled mass of hemlock and wild grape 

 not until you are sure they are not what you want, 

 after they have been cleaned and ordered. A few 

 additions, a few dead limbs cut out, and you are 

 likely to find what nature asks for. Beware of the 

 professional landscape artist who comes to lay out 



