36 TREES OF MASSACHUSETTS. 
the year, so as to foresee and to produce the desired effect at every 
point which the eye can reach, and the adaptation of the various 
kinds of trees to the houses, churches, bridges, and other struct- 
ures already existing or to be erected, and also to water, and to 
roads,—things evidently possible and yet indefinitely difficult,— 
to do all this successfully is the province of an art, which well 
deserves to take its place in the front rank among the fine arts; 
whether we consider the science, taste and skill which it calls 
into play, the vastness of the scale on which it acts, or the 
grandeur of the end which it has in view. 
But why should it be thought important to reclaim or ren- 
der valuable the waste or worthless lands of Massachusetts? 
There are millions of acres of land in the Western States far 
richer than any in our State, which may be purchased for much 
less than it will cost to render barren land productive. Why 
not go thither and occupy the rich wild lands? For many rea- 
sons. This is our native land. Itis painful to break the chain 
of affection which connects us with it. It is painful to separate 
members of the same family. Every improvement in agricul- 
ture, in the management of the forests, and in the use of the 
other natural resources of our State, makes it capable of sus- 
tainmg a larger population, and thus enables more of our young 
men and young women to remain with us, rendering home 
dearer to those who would otherwise be left behind. The ad- 
vantages of our life, in the long settled parts of the Bay State, 
are greater than can be expected, for more than a single genera~ 
tion to come, in the newly settled regions of the valley of the 
Mississippi or in any other new region. There are still higher 
reasons. We live in a climate and on a soil, best adapted, from 
their very severity and sterility, to bring out the energies of mind 
and body, and to form a race of hardy and resolute men. We 
have our churches, our schools, our libraries, our intelligent and 
virtuous neighbors,—dearer to us than any strangers can be. 
These we are not willing to leave. We wish that our children 
should grow up under the influence of the institutions which 
our forefathers have formed and left to us, and which we have 
been endeavoring to improve. Here we wish to live and to die; 
and when we die, we wish to be surrounded by those who are 
most dear to us. 
