ARBOR DAY 
1 13 
Probably there is not another allotment holder in the kingdom 
who can boast of gathering fruit in his allotment from a tree 
fifty-eight years after planting it ; but the circumstance calls to 
mind a still more remarkable instance recorded by Gilbert White 
of early planting succeeded by unusual longevity. In 1790, Mr. 
Marsham of Stratton, near Norwich, writing to White tells him 
of the growth of trees planted by him at varying dates, and in 
particular of an oak planted in 1720 which, at the time of writing, 
measured at one foot from the earth, twelve feet and a half in 
circumference, and at fourteen feet (the half of the timber length) 
eight feet two inches. “ Perhaps,” adds Mr. Marsham, “ you 
never heard of a larger oak while the planter was living.” 
Now the institution of Arbor Day, one feature of which is 
the planting by children, would give successive generations a 
personal interest in the ornamental appearance of their native 
villages, and, in many cases, a share, as each grew up to man- 
hood, in the profits arising from the produce of the fruit-trees so 
planted. The institution of a fixed day in each year set apart 
for tree-planting would as it came round remind us of a duty we 
owe to ourselves and to posterity, namely, to leave our beloved 
land a little better, a little pleasanter, and a little more fruitful 
than we found it. It has been well said indeed that “ a stated 
time is a hedge to duty and often defends a duty from omission.” 
Custom constrains more than law, and if Arbor Day prevailed 
throughout the kingdom millions of trees would speedily grace 
the landscape where now the land is bare. It would benefit the 
nurserymen too — a most deserving class whose craft needs 
encouragement. Then, numerous as have been the suggestions 
offered and many as were the axes to be ground in the year of 
grace, 1897, is there one more truly fitting than the institution of 
Arbor Day to commemorate our Queen’s beneficent reign. A 
fruitful tree has ever been the emblem of the good and just. 
How vastly the handiwork of ’Nature transcends the art of man ! 
How much less inspiring a cold and lifeless statue than a living 
tree, a thing of beauty, increasing in stature and in favour year 
by year and bestowing grateful shade on successive generations ! 
The children who take their share in the work of Arbor Day 
grow up with the trees they plant and thus connect these loving 
witnesses with the events they intend to commemorate. More- 
over, if further grounds in support of the institution af Arbor 
Day be asked for, there remains one which, prosaic though it 
be, will, at this period of perpetual dipping into pockets not 
always too well lined, come home to many — it is inexpensive to 
start with, and even the original small outlay will, in the case 
of fruit-trees properly tended, be quickly repaid. 
I must not omit to mention in bringing these somewhat 
discursive observations to a close an interesting circumstance 
which occurred at the village school of Eynsford soon after the 
celebration of Arbor Day there. It so happened that Her 
Majesty’s Inspector who came to hold the annual examination 
