328 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 177. 



ran the busy chipmunks, saucily chattering with their bushy 

 tails trailing behind them. The wood robins were singing in 

 the thickets, and the thrushes challenging us from wayside 

 bushes. In northern Maine one hears always in summer the 

 tender song of the Peabody bird in such places, but here it 

 occurs but seldom, and 1 missed it from the woodland sounds, 

 of which the air was full. The Witch-hazel stared at us with 

 its wicked-looking eyes, and the Hemlocks hid themselves 

 behind the Alders. 



When at last we came to the clearing, we found Pines in 

 plenty, but, unfortunately, the soil was rocky, and the trees 

 were hard to dislodge, and did not come up with as good a 

 ball of earth as in the sandy hill where we had found them 

 before ; but we packed them well away in the cart, with moss 

 about their roots, and a rubber blanket to keep off the sun, and 

 pretty soon the wagon was nodding with trees four or five feet 

 high, closely jammed together, and Birnam Wood was on the 

 march for Dunsinane. 



The hill had been dug the day before, and some two score 

 holes prepared for the new-comers, so that by noon-time those 

 of the first load were all firmly wedged into their beds, to be 

 staked and tied later, to prevent their rocking with the wind, 

 which gives them at present quite the air of a paddock of 

 frisky young colts, carefully hitched to prevent their getting 

 away. 



That night there was a brisk and most encouraging shower, 

 and the next day, after the rest of the holes had been filled 

 with a second load of Pines, there came down quite a respect- 

 able rain, so that we greatly plumed ourselves upon our fore- 

 sight in having got in our trees in the nick of time, just as the 

 drought " broke." 



But, alas, for the prescience of man, and for our corner in 

 Pines ! We mulched them all well with sea-weed, to keep in 

 what moisture we might, and waited confidently for more 

 rain ; but no rain came ! Two weeks more of dry weather 

 ensued, many of the green tassels hung sadly down, a cold, 

 dry wind blew, twisting and turning them in every direction, 

 and mercilessly whipped the branches about, giving the poor 

 things a cruel foretaste of what they are likely to encounter as 

 time goes on. If the new trees look about upon their well- 

 rooted neighbors they must be struck with the havoc made 

 upon them by the north-west wind. It is always the north- 

 west side of a tree that is brownest and thinnest, and which 

 shows the most broken branches, and the greatest number of 

 withered, copper-colored spines. 



Not until May 29th did the rain come down in earnest, too 

 late for any but the most healthy of the Pines to reap the ben- 

 efit of its invigorating freshness, and they still have a long hot 

 summer before them. 



To show the importance of moisture to a Pine, I will add 

 that among the trees brought, there were about a dozen that 

 had no ball of earth attached to them, and reached here with 

 perfectly bare roots. Knowing it was useless to set them on 

 the hill in this condition, they were all planted in a very wet 

 place at the foot of it, which is kept as a nursery for decrepit 

 and rootless trees. If from anywhere we receive a tree poorly 

 provided with roots, or of drooping and unhappy aspect, or if 

 we bring one home that looks unpromising, into that moist 

 spot it goes, and never a tree has perished there yet, no matter 

 how forlorn a specimen it was when it went into the ground. 

 This nursery is called the Tree Hospital, and we find a year in 

 it is a cure for most of the ailments that roots are heir to. 



In this last experiment, the ten trees planted there, though 

 quite the worst of the lot, never have shown a sign of wilting 

 through all the dry weather. Their tassels stand up straight 

 and stiff, of a clean bright green, and, though so unpromising 

 to start with, will probably in the end leave the others far be- 

 hind. Even the Hemlocks, so troublesome on the lawn, thrive 

 in this low and sheltered spot, where we, have finally sent the 

 worst of them for repairs. I have been told by one who 

 knows, that what the Hemlock cannot abide is the March sun, 

 which does mischief, while the blaze of summer is harmless 

 to it. 



I was shown one day at the Arnold Arboretum, near 

 Boston, the north side of a hill, steep and rocky, but clothed 

 with giant Hemlocks from its lofty summit to the burbling 

 beck at its base. No nobler sight can be imagined. I entered 

 this forest at twilight, and I found it a temple, solemn and 

 silent. The majestic trunks rose from their rocky base at wide 

 intervals, climbing one above the other to the crest of the lofty 

 eminence they crowned. Their close-knit branches, far over- 

 head, formed a dense canopy through which the failing light 

 came dimly, as befits a temple. So wild, so sylvan a spot, 

 within the limits of a great city, can be found in no European 

 park, however magnificent. It is unique and singularly im- 



posing. On the southern slope of that hill no Hemlock grows, 

 showing that what this noble tree demands for full develop- 

 ment is shade and coolness, and shelter from summer winds, 

 which burn and blight. That glimpse of ancient woodland, 

 ages old, will always linger in my memory as a link between 

 the bustling present and the silent past. The busy city presses 

 around it, the hum of traffic is near. You step aside from the 

 highway, pass a gate, cross a tiny brook that tumbles as care- 

 lessly at the foot of the hill as if it were racing through the wilds of 

 Colorado, and you enter a domain apparently as remote, vener- 

 able and silent, as when the Indian was the sole occupant of Shaw- 

 mut, and found his way through the trackless forest to his hunt- 

 ing-grounds. A little path worn by the foot strays along beside 

 the laughing stream ; other paths may lead over the hill, but 

 in the dimness I failed to see them, and the solitude seemed 

 unbroken. Night was falling, the air was chill, the murmur 

 of the leaves far above was barely audible, the impression 

 was indescribably solemn and church-like, as if the aisles of 

 some great cathedral were there stretching away into the 

 shadowy distance, full of mystery. 



Stately and strong the old trees stood, as if they might be as 

 eternal as the rocks and hill, and beautiful they were in their 

 silent majesty, uplifting their venerable heads to the gray 

 evening sky which had domed over them for centuries. 



On an opposite hill a grove of young evergreens was spring- 

 ing up. 



" That, too, will be fine in a hundred years," said the Direc- 

 tor, as we passed out of the great gate ; and, with a thought 

 of my baby-forest at home which, perhaps, in a century or 

 two, may be worth while, I went away grave but rejoicing, for 

 I had seen a noble sight. 



Hingliam, Mass. M. C. RobbhlS. 



The Weeds of California. — II. 



A FTER the general sketch already given, the more im- 

 -^*- portant weeds of California may be discussed in detail, 

 under their respective orders, in the usual sequence. 



Of the Caryophyllacea, the most universally diffused and 

 troublesome member is Silene Gallica, which seems able 

 to withstand the most severe aridity attained in the low- 

 lands of California, at least in the central portions of the 

 state. Stellaria media is among the most persistent of sum- 

 mer weeds in cultivated vineyards and orchards ; while in 

 spring, Spergula arvensis takes possession of the moister 

 grounds in the Coast range as well as in the great valley. 

 Mollugo verticillata is seen sporadically, but is not as trouble- 

 some as in eastern corn-fields. 



Of the Papaveracetz, the Eschscholtzia Californica maintains 

 itself somewhat tenaciously in pastures, but hardly in regularly 

 cultivated ground. Yet, in grain-fields, where its spring bloom 

 has been prevented by cultivation, it will very commonly re- 

 coup itself by a copious autumn flowering, and thus it forms 

 large areas of flaming orange on the outskirts of grow- 

 ing towns, where the ground has ceased to be cultivated with 

 regularity. 



Of the MalvacecB, almost the only member that is really a 

 weed is the Malva parviflora, although a few others are locally 

 complained of. This, the "Malva" par excellence, regarding 

 the extirpation of which many newspaper articles are writ- 

 ten. It is at home in the heavy black clay or "adobe" 

 soils of the Coast range, where it will grow to four and 

 five feet in height, under favorable conditions ; but on 

 roads it will form decumbent, wheel-like masses, resembling 

 those of its eastern congener, the M. rotiindiflolia. Its seeds, 

 borne in the greatest profusion, will germinate with the most 

 surprising readiness, even when the plant is killed quite green ; 

 the seedlings will be found coming to the surface from the 

 depths of the soil-cracks in midsummer, and mature an abun- 

 dance of seed under the most discouraging conditions, It is 

 one of the most persistent weeds the California farmer has 

 to fight, and its extirpation from ground once well stocked 

 with it seems almost hopeless. Some have recommended it as 

 a forage plant, but few cows will touch it so long as anything 

 else is in sight. 



The Geraniacece are prominently represented by the Erodiicm 

 cicutarium and E. moschahim, both commonly known as al- 

 fileria or alfilerilla, and both widely diffused. The first-named, 

 however, the one that has been carried even to the remotest 

 districts of the state, is distinctively the species possess- 

 ing value as a forage plant. The E. moschahim is so dis- 

 tinctly of musky flavor that, like Anthoxanthum among the 

 grasses, it is eaten only in limited quantity by any animal, 

 as a flavoring ; an alfilerilla pasture once overrun with the 

 musky species ceases to have much value ; and in heavy, rich 



