THE TREES OF FLUSHING. 



the "Bowne house," and disappeared in 

 1863. This tree with its twin which fell 

 in 1841, was the rallying point of the 

 Quakers in 1678, when George Fox, the 

 companion of William Penn, preached 

 under its shade and defied the authority 

 of Gov. Peter Stuyvesant. Fox returned 

 to London and died about 1680. Penn, 

 being in London at the time, preached 

 Fox's funeral sermon. Fox was buried 

 in Bunhill Fields, where his grave may 

 still be seen near those of Richard Crom- 

 well and John Bunyan. 



The "Fox oaks" in Bowne avenue, I 

 may add, were probably sacrificed to the 

 spirit of progress which laid out that 

 beautiful street. The grading of the' sur- 

 face doubtless disturbed the roots and led 

 to their premature decay. 



Thus of Flushing's primeval trees only 

 three now remain. And shall their an- 

 cient dignity and their majestic endurance 

 appeal to us in vain? Shall the paltry 

 spirit of modern innovation ever lift a 

 sacrilegious hand to deface or destroy 

 them? Shall the fiend of "progress," 

 falsely so-called, disturb the peaceful old 

 age of these earliest inhabitants, whose 

 life is a connecting link with the past and 

 whose very presence is a benediction? 



Such are some of the arboreal treasures 

 which are in the possession of the citizens 

 of Flushing today, to be enjoyed and ad- 

 mired by us, but which are also to be pro- 

 tected and cherished for the enjoyment of 

 future generations. And herein lies a duty 

 as well as a privilege. The care of these 

 glorious trees involves the most judicious 

 druning, the protection from abuse and 

 injury, and in short the most respectful 

 handling and management;. Remember 



that the duty goes with the heritage- 

 Teach your children to reverence and 

 cherish these priceless treasures, for if 

 once destroyed they cannot be duplicated 

 or replaced. Teach them to respect and 

 venerate a tree, for it is one of Nature's 

 grandest miracles. 



Each season of the year supplies its les- 

 son. We can watch the buds bursting' in 

 the spring sunshine, after the long win- 

 ter's rest. We can lie in the summer shade 

 and study and compare the varied leaf- 

 forms, "Each after his kind," we can peer 

 into the mysterious chemical changes 

 which presage decay in the dazzling colors 

 of autumn, and even in the nakedness of 

 winter we can mark the delicate tracery of 

 branches and twigs which outline the 

 tree form and determine its species and 

 its type. 



Is such occupation idle? Is it not at 

 once an elevating and educating in- 

 fluence? "To him who in his love of 

 Nature, holds communion with her visible 

 forms" — how charming the study and 

 how rich the reward ! 



There can be no undevout tree-student 

 or tree-lover. We cannot slight Nature's 

 everyday miracles. We cannot turn our 

 back on the lessons which they teach. 



"Oh how canst thou renounce the boundless 



store 

 Of charms, which Nature to her votary yields; 

 The warbling woodland, the resounding 



shore, 

 The pomp of groves, the garniture of fields; 

 All thiu the genial ray of rnornins: gilds, 

 And all that echoes to the song of even, 

 All that the mountain's sheltering bos m 



shields 

 And all the dread magnificence of heaven ; 

 Oh, how canst thou renounce, and hope to be 



forgiven!" 



tSeO*, 





[From the Flushing Evening Journal of June 8, 1893] 



