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graph and telephone men to mutilate the branches, the horses of 
the milkman or grocer to gnaw the bark, and ignorant officials to 
prune the trees, or even, on the slightest pretext to cut them 
down. He says: “It is all very well to talk about the protection 
of forests and the formation of National Parks in distant states. 
But we have our own forests which are the trees in our streets 
and public grounds, and before turning our eyes in other direc- 
tions, we had better see what is needed at home. . . . Not a few 
of our New England towns owe their prosperity as summer re- 
sorts to the arching elms and rounded maples whose loss no 
money could replace . . . an effort should be made to secure 
legislation which shall make compulsory the placing of guards 
around trees in exposed places, Furthermore, the care of trees 
in public grounds should be entrusted only to persons specially 
trained for the purpose.”’ 
Botanical friends who spend summers in the country complain 
of the ruthless way in which, in mending or widening the roads, 
the most beautiful wild growth is destroyed through being 
ploughed up, mowed down, or smothered with stones or gravel, 
and suggest that the missionary movement should especially aim 
at reaching selectmen, roadmasters, or those who act, in more 
ways than one, as highwaymen. 
The chief danger that menaces our native plants is from those 
who cut or dig them in quantity to sell in the cities. We rely 
upon the Forestry Association and the Plant Protection Society to 
tell us whether the evergreen trees, pines, spruces and firs are 
in danger from the wholesale attacks they suffer in December. 
It pains some of us to see the cart-loads of Christmas trees 
brought into the city annually, to be enjoyed but for one night, 
and then to be cast aside. We read * of children in an English 
village going out to the plantation to dig up their Christmas tree, 
planting it carefully in a tub before they bring it into the house ; 
after it has appeared in full glory at their evening party, they 
trundle it in a wheelbarrow, “all its ornaments bobbing wildly” 
down to a neighbor’s, where it delights the eyes of a party of 
poor children. After this, it is taken back to its original home 
*C.M. Yonge. Both Sides of the Shield. Macmillan. 
