32 TREES 



are often sold to the factories, and their seasoned wood cut 

 thin for veneering. 



Walnut trees one hundred and fifty feet high were not 

 uncommon in the forests primeval, in the basin of the Ohio 

 and Wabash rivers. These giants held up their majestic 

 heads far over the tops of oaks and maples in the woods. 

 They were slaughtered, rolled together, and burned by the 

 pioneers, clearing the land for agriculture. These men had 

 a special grudge against walnut trees, they were so stub- 

 born — so hard to make away with. How unfortunate it is 

 that our ancestors had the patience to go forward and con- 

 quer the unconquerable ones. Had they weakly sur- 

 rendered, and let these trees stand, we should have had 

 them for the various uses to which we put the finest lumber 

 trees to-day. 



Unhappily, the growing of young trees has not been ex- 

 tensively undertaken to replace those destroyed. The 

 newer forestry is awake to the need, and the loss may be 

 made good, from this time forward. 



The black walnut is nearly globular, deeply sculptured, 

 with a sweet nut rich in oil, very good if one eats but a few 

 at a time. Locally, they find their way to market, but 

 they soon become rancid in the grocer's barrel. At home, 

 boys spread them, in their smooth, yellow-pitted husks, on 

 the roof of the woodshed, for instance, so the husks can 

 dry while the nuts are seasoning. No walnut opens its 

 husk in regular segments, as the hickories all do. But the 

 husking is not hard. The thick shells require careful man- 

 agement of the hammer or nut-cracker, to avoid breaking 

 the meats. 



Dark as is its wood and bark, no walnut tree in full leaf 

 is sombre. The foliage is bright, lustrous, yellow-green. 



