American Poorest Congress i6i 



harvested. With each breath a monarch of the forest 

 falls; engines whistle to engines, as the huge trunks 

 of these noble trees are dragged to the water or to the 

 railroad; the locomotive whistles to the mill, as it 

 comes with long trains of wealth of our forests, and 

 the mill whistles back to the locomotive, as its saws 

 sing while they work ; steamers for coastwise and trains 

 for eastern markets whistle back to the mill, as they 

 hasten with its product; the deep loaded ship spreads 

 its sail and the winds waft our lumber to the far 

 corners of the earth; in all ways the harvest goes 

 merrily on, and the song of the axe, the saw, and the 

 hammer, are sweet to the ears of our people, for they 

 sing of industry, prosperity, and happy homes. 



But is there no other note in the song? Do these 

 people ever think of the centuries their crop has been 

 growing? Does it never occur to them they are the 

 trustees of an heritage for future generations, to be 

 guarded, cared for and watched, used from sparingly 

 as necessity requires, or price justifies, but not to be 

 wantonly wasted or destroyed, or disposed of without 

 adequate returns? And how are they fulfilling their 

 trust? 



They are leaving nearly half of the crop in the 

 woods to be burned, and burning, destroy more, and 

 for the half they are marketing they are obtaining no 

 proper equivalent. They are leaving the ground a 

 fire-swept, desolate waste, where fire will follow fire, 

 until all things valuable have been destroyed. They 

 are taking to themselves the whole of the heritage 

 entrusted to them, and in return are not even scatter- 

 ing a few seeds for the benefit of their children. They 

 are vandals, but no law can reach them. They would 

 be adjudged insane, except for the necessity which 

 governs. The sacred right of property is theirs, and 

 they can do as they will with their own. 



