A Word for the Axe 
Scores of people seem to have nothing to do 
but watch for the superintendent’s axe and, 
when they see it gleam, protest to him or 
his workmen, to the park-commissioners, or 
to the public through the newspapers. Often 
they protest on general principles, professing 
to know nothing of trees except that they 
should never be cut down. Sometimes they 
are a little more explicit ; they know the 
names of certain trees, they like to lounge 
out of doors in pleasant weather, and so 
they call themselves lovers of Nature and 
explain at length how their feelings have 
been outraged. 
I have heard and read a multitude of such 
protests. I have never met with one which 
recognized that a park is an artistic organ- 
ism, a complex thing of beauty, and that, 
therefore, if it is to be kept beautiful, other 
things than the intrinsic excellence of this 
tree or that must be considered. I have 
never met with one which gave a valid rea- 
son why any “slaughtered ” tree should not 
have been slaughtered, while I have never 
walked through either of our parks with a 
person who knew anything of art or any- 
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