124 



[Adgust, 1911. 



TIMBERS. 



TREE PLANTING IN TOWNS.* 



(From Nature, No. 2,162, Vol. LXXXVI., 

 April 6, 1911.) 

 The tree, standing singly, collected in 

 masses forming woods, or grown as a 

 beautiful avenue, is a fascinating object 

 of study once the attention has been 

 arrested upon it. Difficult it is to realise 

 that an object of such size, majesty, and 

 strength as a tine old tree represents 

 has sprung from a tiny seed— a seed 

 which if placed in the palm of the hand 

 may, to the non-expert, prove indistin- 

 guishable from the seed of a small herb 

 or grass of the field. Yet in the one 

 case the tiny seed contains within it the 

 germ which will produce a green monu- 

 ment of 100 to 200 feet or more in height, 

 a living monument which will with- 

 stand the storms aud changes of centu- 

 ries, and may witness the downfall and 

 uprise of dynasties and nations. Its 

 seasonal garb does not pass through the 

 kaleidoscopic changes of fashion which 

 man in these later days is heir to. 



The tree has but the four changes of 

 garment which appear regularly with 

 the changing seasons throughout its 

 life, but this raiment has never failed 

 in its attraction for man. Beautiful as 

 are the tender greens of spring, the 

 deeper, more mature greens of summer, 

 and the brilliant tints of autumn, he 

 who studies trees finds something equ- 

 ally beautiful, even if not more beauti- 

 ful, in the stern grandeur, with its 

 latent promise of strength exhibited in 

 winter. 



The tree has had a greater influence in 

 the training and civilisation of mankind 

 than is perhaps generally realised, cer- 

 tainly more than is realised by the man 

 of the city and town. Long centuries ago 

 the greater portion of the land of the 

 globe was covered by vast primeval 

 forests in which man lived a primitive 

 existence, and against which he waged an 

 unequal war. But he was dependent 

 upon the forest for the greater part of his 

 means of subsistence, whilst his house, 

 furniture, cooking utensils such as they 

 were, and implements offensive, defen- 

 sive and cultural were all fashioned 

 from the materials of the forest. 



As man increased in number and 

 became more civilised, he cleared larger 

 and larger areas of the tree growth, and 



* Paper read at the Town Planning Exhi- 

 bition in the lloyal Academy Buildings, Edin- 

 burgh, March 23, by E. P. Stebbing, Lecturer 

 in Fmestry, University of Edinburgh, | 



now took to living outside, but still in 

 the neighbourhood of the forest. Still 

 he depended upon the forest for most 

 of the necessaries of life from the mate- 

 rials for constructing his house down 

 to a chief portion of his daily food. 



It was only with the great increase in 

 number of mankind and with his con- 

 centration in certain localities, usually 

 the fertile lowlands from which the 

 forests had been cleared, that these sec- 

 tions of the human race began to depend 

 less and less on the forest as one of the 

 chief staffs of life. 



But we see that the instinct of man 

 in the earlier days in the history of the 

 world was to look to the forest as 

 nature's great storehouse from which 

 he could obtain the necessities of his 

 daily life. It is so with the nomadic 

 races of the world at the present day. 

 I wish to make this point, as it explains, 

 I think, the inherent love of trees which 

 lies in the nature of each one of us, 

 though in the city-bred man it may to 

 some extent remain dormant. 



It explains another point on which I 

 propose to briefly dwell, the instinct 

 of man, if left to himself in a bare tree- 

 less region to plant trees or tree growth, 

 or bushes even, to brighten the monotony 

 of his otherwise dreary surroundings. 

 For those of us who have experienced 

 nature in its awesome loneliness in the 

 absence of tree growth of any kind, 

 know full well how appallingly depress- 

 ing it can become. 



In such localities mau, if let to himself, 

 will, I say, start planting trees and will 

 take extraordinary trouble to make 

 them grow. Some years ago I was 

 deputed by the Government of India to 

 visit Quetta, the beautiful capital of 

 Baluchistan— that rugged province situ- 

 ated in the far north-west of India on 

 the frontier of Afghanistan and Persia. 

 Quetta occupies the central Highland 

 of Baluchistan, and is a point of con- 

 siderable military strategic importance. 

 It is situated at about 5,500.feet, and is 

 surrounded by great barren peaks 

 ranging up to 11,700 feet. The railway 

 climbs to it through a dreary rugged 

 waste of rock and sand, with here and 

 there little villages embosomed in trees 

 and surrounded with small areas of 

 crops. It is a wild country, and the 

 history of Quetta fully illustrates my 

 point that man in such a country will 

 plant trees for dear life. 



The main station of Quetta was formed 

 after Lord Roberts's march to Kandahar. 

 At the time the first houses were built, 



