NOTE TO THE AUTHOR’S EDITION. 
Woodland Trees,” now lying on the table before 
me ; and allow me to say, sir, that your works 
are as familiar to our school children and the com- 
mon people as the writings of Charles Dickens 
in dear old England — most of our Public 
Libraries having a complete set of your works on 
their shelves. While reading your book “ Our 
Woodland Trees ” and looking over the beautiful 
engravings, so true to nature, I felt I was back 
in the Old Land, roaming through its field- 
paths and crossing the old rustic stiles ; then 
through its quiet lanes with their leafy hedges of 
Blackthorn in full bloom, and later, of Hawthorn. 
I almost fancied I could inhale their delicate per- 
fumes and almost unconsciously looked down to 
my feet to make sure I was not treading on some 
sweet cowslips or primroses, or crushing some 
bluebells. Then views of the stately old oaks 
reminded me of our rambles through the parks 
and copses of Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Hampshire, 
and the picturesque Isle of Wight— all familiar 
places to mein my youthful days. You cannot 
conceive the pleasure such a book as yours gives 
to me in a strange land, away from all my kindred 
and the old scenes of childhood ; more especially 
