THE FOREST 165 



a heavy mattock I would chop a hole thr()u;^^h the 

 tough turf and loosen the soil sufficiently to insert 

 the roots of the little tree, pressin;^^ the earth 

 firmly around it. It was hard work but my pro- 

 phetic vision of the forest lured me on and I 

 labored hopefully. 



Of the trees bought at the nurseries, there were 

 seven hundred tiny white pines, hve hundred 

 each of white maples, elms and red oaks and a 

 nearly equal number of ashes. Many of these I 

 intended as nurses during the growing period in 

 this wind-swept region, as trees do much better 

 under these circumstances when they are planted 

 thickly. In these early years I rarely went to 

 any place in the country that I did not come back 

 with specimens of the trees of the region, some- 

 times wrapt in paper in my pocket, or in my 

 traveling bag or — if a more extensive collec- 

 tion — packed in a box. With critical, greedy e}'e 

 I scanned my friends' fields and woods for m \v 

 seedlings. I brought red pines and balsam tirs 

 from Shelburne, New Hampshire, witch hazel 

 from Arlington, hemlocks from Brookline, scrub 

 oaks from West Roxburv and cedars from Brain- 



