FORESTRY. 



119 



SAVE THE SEQUOIAS. 



The life of man seems indeed but a tran- 

 sient hour, hardly long enough "to look 

 about us and to die," when we compare it 

 with the existence of a tree. In compari- 

 son to some of the Sequoias, Methuselah 

 died in infancy. A United States senator 

 has lately made public certain information 

 received by him about the history stored 

 away in the great trees of California. One 

 of moderate size, 15 feet in diameter 5 feet 

 from the ground, reveals the following ex- 

 periences : In 271 B.C. it began its exist- 

 ence. In 245 a.d., when it was 516 years of 

 age, a forest fire burned on its trunk a scar 

 3 feet in width. After 1,196 years of placid 

 life, in another fire, in 1441 a.d., the tree, 

 aged 1,712, received another injury. An- 

 other scar followed in 1580, and was not 

 covered with new tissue for 56 years. 

 The worst attack of all was in 1797, when 

 the tree, then 2,068 years of age, was at- 

 tacked by a fire which left a scar 18 feet 

 wide, reduced by 1890, in 103 years, to 14 

 feet. These vast historic growths are be- 

 ing subjected to the fate which threatens so 

 many of our forests throughout the land — 

 the sawmill and conversion into the fleeting 

 materials of commerce. The tree of which 

 we have spoken, after defying storm and 

 fire for over 20 centuries, fell a victim to 

 the desire for money about 3 years ago. 

 Only 10 isolated groves of these trees re- 

 main, and only one grove is protected by 

 government ownership. The nation ought 

 to own them all, and it is earnestly to be 

 hoped that Congress will act favorably on 

 the President's request to buy 2 more 

 groves — a modest enough ambition. Some 

 of these trees are twice the size of the one 

 whose age has been ascertained, and must 

 be some 50 centuries old now, with possible 

 long lives ahead. If Congress fails to save 

 these ancient monuments, and allows them 

 to flit through paltry buildings to a speedy 

 nothingness, it will have added one to its 

 disgraceful failures, and omitted the op- 

 portunity to add one to its acts of wisdom 

 and utility. — Collier's Weekly. 



NEW METHOD OF GATHERING TURPEN- 

 TINE. 



Dr. Charles H. Herty, an expert on the 

 subject of forestry and an attache of the 

 United States Bureau of Forestry, is the 

 inventor of a new method of gathering tur- 

 pentine which will revolutionize the meth- 

 ods now in vogue, and be the means of 

 saving an immense amount of money to the 

 South, where the turpentine industry 

 thrives. Heretofore the crude turpentine 

 has been gathered by cutting a kind of box 

 or pocket in the base of the tree, and into 

 this the product found its way from the 

 scarified sides of the tree. The method 



was not only wasteful, but damaged the 

 tree to such an extent that its life of use- 

 fulness was considerably shortened. It is 

 said that 2,000,000 acres of virgin forest 

 are boxed annually in this way. Dr. Herty 

 is a Southerner, and foreseeing the eventual 

 ruin of a great industry, set about to arrive 

 at some other means of extracting the 

 resin. This he has succeeded in doing in a 

 manner which meets all the demands of the 

 case and increases the production about 75 

 per cent, by the recovery of that which was 

 formerly wasted and the improved quality 

 of that gathered. The apparatus made use 

 of by Dr. Herty is simple and inexpensive, 

 consisting of an earthenware cup with a 

 nail hole near the top, a 6 penny wire nail 

 to hold it in place, and a pair of galvanized 

 iron troughs to divert the flow of resin into 

 the cup. Dr. Herty has not attempted to 

 enrich himself by a monopoly of what is 

 a patentable article, but has announced that 

 the use of the process is public property. 

 As the turpentine industry of the South is 

 an extremely important one, his gift repre- 

 sents a money valuation of considerable 

 size. — Scientific American. 



PISCATOR AND PISCATRIX. 



FREDERIC BIGELOW. 



A nut-brown maid through field and wood 

 Trips gaily with her line and hook ; 

 Beside her, strides, in merry mood, 

 A youth with rod and book. 



At length they come to a spreading tree, 

 Beside whose roo'ts there brawls a brook; 

 He casts his line far out and free, 

 She drops her line and hook. 



What care has she for line and hook? 

 She angles in her lover's eyes ; 

 With many a smile and rapturous look, 

 Expectant of her prize. 



He has a strike, his rod is bent, 

 The gleaming sides of a trout they see ! 

 There is a rush, the line is sent 

 Around the roots of the old tree. 



Untangled is the silken line, 



A^ noble battle bravely fought 



For life and freedom ! But this time 



The wary trout is caught ! 



To her he proudly gives the trout 

 Which wriggles from her little hands ; 

 There is a scream and then a pout, 

 The youth — she gently lands. 



First Mosquito — What ! Are you trying a 

 black baby? 



Second Mosquito — Yes, I'm in mourning. 

 —Life. 



