8 
Almost every one is opinionated in the matter, and some particu- 
larly regard “the mint, the annis and cummin, and neglect the 
weightier matters” upon which the lives and usefulness of their 
trees Cepend. To all such, it would seem almust a waste of time 
and space to give further counsel. The best mode is a very easy 
one, and none need fail in the undertaking. But many labor hard 
to carry out their own whims, and then wonder that their trees do 
not live.and grow. . 
SELECTION or TREES—The best form of trees to plant, depends 
much upon their prospective exposure. If to be planted in a tim- 
bered or well protected situation, trees that branch tolerably high 
may be planted with comparative safety. But for all open prairie 
or other exposed locations, only the low branching trees should be 
chosen. The inconvenience of cultivating around the latter kind 
of trees is rather unpleasant, but no one who desires fruit should 
for a moment regard it. 
Diceine AND PROTECTING THE ROoTS.—In digging the trees, se- 
cure with as little damaging as possible all the roots that can be 
kept free from injury by bruising or breaking while being trans- 
planted. For, to set out a tree with a large supply of roots that 
are mutilated and spoiled, is bnt laying the foundation for a sickly 
existence, and a long continued unfruitfulness. The last thing be- 
fore re-setting, all the badly bruised and damaged roots should be 
cut away, and all the ends of roots cut off roughly by the spade, 
should be smoothly cut anew by a sharp knife. In removing trees 
from the place of digging to that of planting, too much care can- 
not be given, for upon the protection of their roots at that time 
more than all else depends the lives of the trees. 
Exampre.—A friend wrote me that himself and men went one 
morning to digging young cotton wood trees to set for a hedge. 
About the middle of the forenoon, having finished digging, they 
commenced planting the hedge. At noon they went to dinner, 
leaving about half the dug trees lying on the ground in the drying 
sun. After dinner they resumed and finished their work. The 
result was that all planted before dinner lived, and with scarcely 
an exception those planted after dinner died. 
Now this was not owing to a “ change of the moon,” or to less 
care in setting, but to the simple fact that the fibrous roots were so 
parched by the scorching sun and drying wind, that they were 
