AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
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AGRICULTURE IS TEE MOST HEALTHY . TEE MOST USEFUL , AND TEE MOST NOBLE EMPLOYMENT OF MAN .- Washihoton. 
PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY ALLEN & CO., 189 WATER ST. 
VOL. XI.] NEW-YORK, WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 1854. [NUMBER 24. 
a®- FOR PROSPECTUS, TERMS, %c., 
SEE LAST PAGE. 
TRAINING YOUNG FOREST TREES. 
We know of no more delightful occupation 
than that of training a young growth of forest 
up into comeliness and beauty; serenely con¬ 
templating as we do so, the luxuriance of their 
future growth under the training so carefully 
given them, and looking forward to the time 
when we can repose at our ease beneath their 
grateful shadows. Every land-holder almost, 
whose land is in the country, be it farm, or 
otherwise, if of any dimensions beyond a build¬ 
ing-lot, can have his little plantation of forest in 
a desirable position upon it—not for the pur¬ 
poses of fuel exactly, but as a sort of pleasure- 
ground, or attachment thereto; or, no matter 
for what purposes, only because he chooses to 
have it, and that is reason enough. 
We have a young forest of our own, covering 
perhaps ten acres of land, a new growth sprung 
up from the dilapidations of an ancient wood, 
where it had been recklessly haggled out from 
time to time, by rude and careless axe-men. 
The young trees grew in great variety in thick 
clusters of several saplings, from the roots of 
decaying stumps, or in single stems a few feet 
apart—some crooked, gnarly, and worthless— 
others the perfection of grace, vigor, and 
promise. It was, in fact, but a short time 
since, a tangled brushwood—purposely so, on 
our part—for we preferred that the young 
growth should strive with itself for a few years, 
to develop the strongest of the saplings, with 
the underbrush to shade their roots, and keep 
the earth moist Tor their more rapid shooting 
up. Some years ago, we took the young forest 
to do, with hatchet in our own, and two or 
three sharp axes in the hands of an equal num¬ 
ber of sturdy axe-men to follow us. A quick 
eye, and rapid movement on our part soon put 
a hack into every sapling to be removed, which 
the ready blow of the choppers at the root, dis¬ 
placed and laid low as we proceeded. A day 
or two of this, and the ground was covered 
with prostrate trees, two to four inches in dia¬ 
meter at the foot, ready to be drawn out, trim¬ 
med, and made into stakes, poles, or firewood, 
at leisure. 
In this first thinning operation, not more than 
one-fourth, perhaps not one-eighth of the young 
trees were cut out, that will be necessary to 
give the finished wood- a final dressing; but 
enough to open the standing trees to the in¬ 
creasing influences of the sun and air, that their 
tops be not drawn up too weedily, and give 
them a sickly expression. Four or five years 
after this first dressing, another like service was 
performed, taking perhaps half the number that 
had been previously left; while, the other day, 
we walked again into the wood, armed as before, 
and surprised at the prodigious growth of the 
young trees, many of them thirty feet high and 
upwards, now nourishing a turf of soft grass 
beneath their branches, but still crowding each 
other for room, and tending their tops too point¬ 
edly upward, to develop the full character 
of each particular variety—the distinguishing 
feature which every piece of ornamental forest 
should possess. 
But now, instead of, as at first,, a work of plea¬ 
sure in looking at the labor we had to do, it 
smote us to the heart. Here, on every side, 
spreading out into the finest models of luxuri¬ 
ance and beauty, were thrifty oaks of a dozen 
varieties, and in all their sturdy cast of charac¬ 
ter. Elms in every differing figure of branching, 
towering, or bending form of head, tracing out 
every imaginable line of Gothic vagary; maples, 
hard and soft—the last, one of the most grace¬ 
ful trees that ever grew, with its waving, lifting, 
and in full growth, towering head of changing 
spray and leaf. There were ashes—the white, 
and the water—tall, straight, and still aspiring. 
There was also the beech, with its light, 
smooth, gray bark, and dry leaves still on the 
branches, and rustling in the winds. The hick¬ 
ory, thrifty, and smooth, pushing up a rapidly 
growing trunk, tempting the chopper’s axe in 
its promise of “ what a capital helve-stick that 
would make!” Then stood around the dog¬ 
wood, the shad-blow, and thorn, beautiful, fra¬ 
grant flowering trees, small in stature; the iron- 
wood, slender, but of comely shape; and then 
the grand young American bass-woods, or lin¬ 
dens; now and then a tulip, or white-wood, by- 
and-by to be a giant among them all; and so 
on, through the long variety, all beautiful, lux¬ 
uriant, and most charming to look upon. Pain¬ 
ful as was the task before us, the very beauty 
and promise of the young trees only rendered 
that task the more imperative. To this reluc¬ 
tant labor too, was to be added the difficulties of 
selection among so many equally beautiful speci¬ 
mens, which to leave, and which to sacrifice; 
yet that selection had to be made, and with a 
heavy heart we commenced, while the axe fol¬ 
lowed, in its rueful work. As I hacked, and 
the woodmen following, hewed their progress 
through this work of destruction, I could not 
but be amused at the different thoughts each 
party entertained as we went along. To best 
execute a work like this, good axe-men should 
always be employed, and the only beauty such 
men find in a tree, is the pleasure of cutting it 
down. We were continually gazing aloft to 
seek out the least promising and apparently 
defective head of the trees to mark for cutting, 
oft giving vent to regrets of the necessity of 
spoiling so many fine young trees, while the 
choppers were in high triumph over the “cap¬ 
ital straight poles, stakes, and oven-wood” they 
were making, and grunting out their “pity’s 
that so much good pasture-land should be taken 
up for a wood lot that would never pay for 
growing!” Why, the rascals would have hewed 
down every stick in the grove as merrily as 
they ever sat down to a dinner, if we had only 
given the word. 
The task was finally done. The interlacing 
tops were disengaged, and in one, two, or three 
days’ labor more than a thousand of the finest 
models of forest growth and comeliness lay 
prostrate, ready to be trimmed and cut up, food 
for fire, or other baser purpose. And now the 
wood looks more beautiful than ever. It is 
combed out, with its forest locks fresh and 
graceful. The tops are spreading broad, and 
waving; the sun can now shine in on every 
side of every tree for a small portion of the day; 
and free from restraint, each, in its own peculiar 
way, can go on rejoicing. Beautiful trees! IIow 
rapidly, gratefully, wantonly, vigorously too, 
you will grow henceforward, little conscious 
that the very luxuriance of your development 
wffl bring us again, should life be spared—alas, 
that we should grow infirm and decrepid, while 
you will flourish in matured grandeur for ages 
after us—with the deadly axe among you for 
still further decimation! 
But we unwittingly are getting lugubrious 
and melancholy over a subject which should 
be delightful both to our thoughts and occupa¬ 
tion, and will close at once, in hopes that our 
readers, more or less, who have opportunity and 
inclination, will follow our example, and enjoy 
themselves in the same agreeable, as well as 
useful recreation. 
LETTERS FROM PROF. NASH.-~No. 4, 
IRRIGATION. 
On a former occasion, I spoke of the Duke of 
Portland’s water-meadows, near Mansfield, Not- 
inghamshire. These improvements were com¬ 
menced in 1816. Most of them have been in 
operation more than a quarter of a century. 
Time has thoroughly tested their value. The 
lands under irrigation continue to produce ex¬ 
traordinary crops without manure, thus furnish¬ 
ing the means of enriching other lands. Suffice 
it to say, that 360 acres of reclaimed water- 
meadow, formerly worth less than £100 an¬ 
nual value, are now worth nearly £4000 a year, 
and that although the expense has been great, 
yet the improvements are this day paying eight 
per cent., nearly twice the usual rate of interest 
in that country on the outlay. 
