C'lrbotiatltutaL 
FORESTRY.—No. 32. 
DR. JOHN A. WARDER. 
Tree Planting at Cape Cod-Mr. Ken- 
nclce'a Experience. 
(Contlnucd.j 
“ I began in 1852 to plant a variety of trees 
for ornament, which I found rather expensive. 
At the suggestion of my brother, Richard P. 
Pay, of Lvnn, I imported from England about 
20.000 seedlings, comprising Scotch Larch and 
Birch, Austrian and Scotch Pine, English Oak, 
Sycamore and Norway Spruce. They came 
through the voyage well, and I placed them 
in a nursery, where they throve. About the 
same time I began to transplant the native 
White and Pitch Pines from the old field in 
the eastern part of the town (Falmouth), and 
to cover with them the bare, gravelly hills 
in the rear of my house and fronting the 
water. After the imported trees had been 
cultivated in the nursery two years I trans¬ 
planted them and mixed them with the native 
pines, and also placed them in the vacant 
spots and openings and on the outskirts 
of the 25 acre wood lot before raetioned. 
They all did well. Beyond this wood lot l had 
nearly 200 acres of old pasture and arable 
land (not much of the latter) stretching away 
northward to Buzzard’s Bay, on which there 
was not a tree large enough to shade a rabbit. 
Upon the 60 acres nearest home, which I re¬ 
served for a pasture, I planted half acre 
clumps of the imported trees, surrounding 
them with cheap fences of wire drawn through 
posts to keep off the cattle until they should 
grow large enough for shade. The most of 
these trees are now of good size and are doing 
well. About my house, where formerly there 
was not a tree, and where my neighbors said 
I could not make them grow, right in the face 
of the salt-bearing southerly gales, the hills 
are now covered with large pines, spruces and 
other trees and my buildings seem rather to 
have been planted in a grove than that the 
grove should have been brought to them. And 
yet I have already cut away many trees be¬ 
cause they are too crowded. But after all 
this planting with a spade I had upwards of a 
hundred acree of very poor pasture land, still 
bare of trees, overgrown in many places with 
patches of bushee and much of the grass had 
given way to moss. I sowed it with seeds of 
8cotch and Austrian Pines and Norway 
Spruce, importing the seed and mixing it 
with seed of native trees. I began in 186L to 
scatter these broadcast on the sward without 
any care or system, continued it three or four 
years and now have a stretch of nearly 100 
acres covered with a dense growth of ever¬ 
green trees. 
What I have done has been in a cheap and 
careless way, which shows what can be 
accomplished with little labor and expense. 
My luck has been good, but as a matter of 
economy and sound calculation I would recom¬ 
mend more care. I should advise the sowing 
to be done in furrows, run at equal distances, 
or the seed might be planted with a hoe in reg¬ 
ular order, covering lightly. In this way the 
seed would not come too thickly as they have 
done with me when sown broadcast, and lees 
seed would be wasted or needed. When sown 
in this regular way failures can be season¬ 
ably detected and the ground replanted. It 
is indispensable that the land should be fenced 
so as to keep out the cattle until the trees have 
grown up out of their reach. The planting 
with seed takes the least possible outlay of 
capital and labor, and may be done by any¬ 
body who has vacant land. When one has 
capital to spare it is a surer method to Bet 
out seedliugR at regular distances. 
The need for trees to plant on the prairies 
has resulted in starting large nurseries at the 
West, from which many kinds can be obtained 
at reasonable cost. Some kinds will come 
better from seed. Perhaps a greater variety 
of seedlings and at less coat can be obtained 
from England, but there U some risk, though 
not a great one, of their not surviving the 
voyage. The larch seems to do well, and can 
be had from the West even as low as one cent 
each, a foot high. If 1,000 are planted on an 
acre the capital invested, including the labor 
of planting, will not be over $20 an acre, and 
on this and the value of the land, of course, the 
interest must be compounded. 1 think that 
with even more than this cost almost any kind 
of wood will pay handsomely, so rapid is the 
growth. This, whether from the seed or 
planted out at two or three years, may be 
calculated as at least a foot a year in hight 
and one third of an inch ia diameter in ordina¬ 
ry ground. In good soil or on favorable con¬ 
ditions 50 per cent, may be added to this. 
Many of my trees have done as well as the lat 
ter ratio, that is, 18 inches a year in hight and 
half an inch in diameter, upon a locality 
that I should consider rather less favorable 
than the average. I lately measured many 
larches of my first importation, which, at 
three feet from the ground, are from 24 to 36 
inches in circumference, mostly 26 to 28, and 
from 30 to 40 feet high. These are 26 years 
from the seed, and 23 years planted out. Some 
of thesprucesand White Pines are 40feethigh. 
and 30 to 40 inches in circumference three feet 
from the ground. A chestnut tree, of which 
I planted the seed 15 years ago, is 35 feet high 
and 83 inches round. This one is favorably 
situated. Others planted 12 years ago from 
the seed are about 20 inches round three feet 
from the ground and 25 feet high. Taking 
these trees as they stand, from six to 10 feet 
apart, an acre would hold at least 600 such, 
and they should be worth at least 30 cents 
cosh for almost any use the wood can be put 
to, which would be a good investment, and 
the better if waste land were used. I think an 
acre of land will sustain 700 larches, spruces, 
White Pines, ash or chestnut trees planted 'i'% 
feet apart each way for 30 years without 
thinning, when they should be worth at least 
a half a dollar each. I have been told that 
within a few days there was sold at auction 
in North East the wood, chiefly pine, stand¬ 
ing on an acre and a half of land, for the sum 
of $225, which is $150 per acre. A man pres¬ 
ent at the sale, who formerly owned the 
place, said that it was just 25 years since he 
and his two boys in one-half day dug up the 
trees in an adjoining field, where they were 
scattered about, and set them out. They were 
about a foot high. Nothing was ever done to 
them afterward. At the time they were 
planted the land was considered as worth $15, 
or $10 per acre. This same farmer planted 
3>£ acree about 35 years ago, which, in the 
opinion of experienced lumber men, will cut 
150 or 160 cords of wood per acre, and is worth 
$300 or $350 per acre on the stump. 
[To be Continued.] 
Is the Woods. —Illcs, Art Notes.—Fig. 46. 
farm (1; conn mi). 
ENSILAGE. 
A NEW PLAN. 
I noticed in a late Rural an editorial re¬ 
mark upon the “ Troublesome Part of the 
Process of Ensilage ” in handling so much 
stone to weight the silo. Now 1 will give 
Rural readers a bit of my experience:— 
Last Summer 1 built a silo of tarred paper 
and matched plan, inside a bay in my barn, 
20x24 feet and 20 feet deep, I put in about 
125 tons of fodder-oorr., and was three weeks 
putting it in, on account of lack of help. I 
did not tread it down very much, having only 
a small boy in the silo to spread it and tread 
it down. There was not a pound of stone or 
any weight put upon it, except a covering of 
tarred paper and one-inch boards I opened 
it in about six weeks, and was very agreeably 
surprised to find It in such a flue state of pre¬ 
servation; there was not a particle of mold 
or heat in the whole thing, except i little 
upon the top, which was black. The cows, to 
which it is fed, ate every particle of it, and 
want more. 
My method of feeding may be of interest 
to some of the many readers of the Rural. 
In the morning, cows are fed about one 
bushel each of ensilage and six quart* of 
bran, mixed in the form of slop. At noon, 
they are fed one peck of beets cut up in a root- 
cutter, and all the dry, cut corn stalks they 
will eat. At night they are again fed ensi¬ 
lage, the same as in the morning, and three 
quarts of corn-meal. I must say, I never saw 
cows bold out bo well on their milk as these 
have this Winter, since feeding ensilage. I 
keep about 30 cows and deliver milk in Sche¬ 
nectady, and find it the most profitable busi¬ 
ness I ever engaged in. 
One word in regard to the cost of silos and 
ensilage:— 
The entire cost, of my silo will not exceed 
$75, and it will hold over 200 tone. I cannot 
give the exact cost of putting in the fodder, 
but know it can be done in less rime and with 
less bard labor than is needed to bind and 
shock the fodder in the field, where it has to 
remain until it is wanted for nse, as it is al¬ 
most impossible to put the fodder in a barn 
and have it keep without molding or rotting, 
no matter how dry it is. 
I shall manage a little differently next sea¬ 
son. I shall put a horse in the silo, and have 
the fodder treaded down as h ard as possible, 
and when the silo is full, I will throw some 
straw on the top, which will be all that will 
be necessary, in my opinion. E. E. Hardin. 
Schenectady Co., N. Y. 
CittTtmj. 
THE ST0ET OF STONY BE00K FAEM. 
HENRY STEWART. 
CHAPTER XXII. 
(Continued from page 41.) 
“Yes, that is all true; but how is it ? what 
makes the difference 1” 
“ Well, you see I first landed in Iowa. The 
land’s rich as grease, there, and corn—well, 
it’s a sight to see corn. But my wife bed the 
fever there, and it didn’t suit her. The land 
was cheap, yon see, and it was worked so 
easy, and we used to send corn and wheat 
away by the car-load off 240 acres, which 
just cost me $300 I’ve bed crops as paid that: 
ten times over in one year. Then I went into 
Wisconsin, and then Into southern Michigan; 
and then I came here, and I’ve done well 
everywhere. You see the railroads came in 
and up went the land four or five times, and 
so we could sell out and make a pile very 
quickly,” 
“ Then the railroads helped you some ?” 
“Some 1 I guess they did. Why, if it 
war’nt for them nobody would hev been here 
in the West. What could a body do ? How 
could he send his grain away } He couldn’t 
get in, and be couldn’t get out, you see.” 
“ And so you made money.” 
“ Hand-over-fist, you see. Why, here last 
year I had 10 acre* of potatoes; 1,723 bushels 
off that ten acres, and stumpy land at that; 
and they brought me 1,723 dollars exactly; 
paid at the furnace at Lakeview, for the 
boarding honse. It took forty big loads to 
haul them; and then I had twenty acres of 
Spring w heat which I shipped away; more’n 
500 bushels; I didn’t get ao much on that lot, 
because the freight was so high; but what I 
had more’n paid what my land had cost me : 
the whole 160 acres.” 
'* Well, now Smith, don't you think after all 
the railroads have done for you and the pub 
lie, made all this land useful and valuable> 
which before was useless; and made it possi¬ 
ble for you to come and take it almost as a 
free gift, for next to nothing, you are rather 
hard on them to grumble as you do, because 
the men who made them and work them ask 
for a little share of the benefit. Yon say one 
crop more than paid for your land ten time*; 
last year's ciop did pretty near as well; and 
the people here are well off and the country is 
getting rich. Now there never was and never 
will be a railroad that could make money as 
fast as that, and why should you envy the 
road a profit of 20 per cent. You would not 
be satisfUd with so small a profit as that on 
your investment, would you ?” 
“ Well, I don’t know about that. Of course, 
railroads ought to have something for their 
money, and they do put in a pile of it in a 
road, I know, and the laborin’ men as builds 
’em gets it all. But it does seem hard to take 
half of what a man raises to send off the other 
half." 
“ But if that were wholly true, which it is 
not, y ou get rich on it, and it is not what you 
pay out but what is left that makes man 
rich. But here’s the lake. This is indeed a 
change. Three years ago I camped over 
there, Smith, one night, and got wetter than 
1 ever was before or since, and now cows and 
sheep are pasturing, and the grain is waving. 
The country does grow, certainly: and al¬ 
though you farmers do a great share of it, the 
railroads and the mines, and the iron fur- 
naees, and all the factories, and the mills, do 
their share ” 
“ That’s a fact, Jedge; there’s no denyin’it. 
They have helped us along here amazin’; 
that’s true.” 
And Lakeville, with its two new furnaces, 
each of which eat up a whole acre of timber a 
day, in the shape of charcoal, and filing the 
mouths of 800 living souls, and found employ¬ 
ment for a good many farmers who raised the 
food for these men and women and children; 
and its many scattered mines with their thou¬ 
sands of industrious laborers, and with its 
newly-cleared farms surrounding it, and in the 
center of it preserved aa a park, the great mar¬ 
ble rock and the green meadow, with its herd 
of tame deer and the crystal brook which lost 
itself in the clear lake—all this appeared in 
sight as the train drew up at the neat little 
station. 
The old camp was gone, and in place of it a 
row of neat and handsome dwellings upon a 
street laid out facing the lake shore, and be¬ 
hind these, upon a high rocky point which 
stretched out into the lake like a broad finger, 
was a large school-house and a church, and 
more dwellings, and on the other side rose 
another spire, pointing heavenward, and 
streets of cottages. The old dwellers were no 
longer there. Where the bark canoe and the 
flat-bottomed boat were moored to a log which 
projected, where it first fell—the victim of 
some lightning stroke—out into the shallow, 
sandy bed of the lake, rode several neat skiffs. 
But in the bu«y work which went on from 
morning to night, from night to morning, as 
the great engine puffed and blew its hot breath 
into the glaring furnace without a moment’s 
rest, and with clanging mallets as they struck 
the drills in the mines, and the boom, and 
the sounding echoes of a great blast which 
threw down the precious ore; and faraway as 
one could see,the green fields intermingled with 
blackened stumps from the most recent clear¬ 
ings. and dotted over with neat bouses and 
bams, and fences of rough stamp* and roots, 
and split rails; and close by, where the saw¬ 
mill, with its spiteful hiss and its “ whang¬ 
ing” saw, as the toothed dLc tore its way 
through a log and cat off a plank, noiser than 
all the rest—in proportion to its littleness—as 
with some men who make np for their lit¬ 
tle insignificance by their great pretention. 
Amid a'l this bustle and noise and hurry, few 
thought how but a few months before the shrill 
scream of the wild cat and the hoarse moan¬ 
ing of the trees, swayed by the winds, were 
the only sounds heard, and the life of one man 
only—and he a recluse and a hermit, as it 
were—was all that made it useful to hu- 
hanity. All this passed through the miud of 
Mr. Bates, as he stood for a few minutes on 
the platform, looking across the lake to the 
place where he passed a memorable night in 
pursuit of pleasure and relaxation. And thus 
looking and t inking, he saw the engine at 
tached to a long train of cars loaded with ore 
and iron, and picking up its passenger cars, 
move away winding through fields and pass¬ 
ing houses and barns until it disappeared in 
the distant woods, with its rich load, on its way 
to the furnaces of Ohio and Pennsylvania, a 
thousand miles off. And then he turned and 
met the carriage which had been sent to meet 
him from the Bates House—the hotel named 
in his honor, as the president of the company 
whose enterprises had put all this industry m 
motion, and had so changed the aspect of the 
locality in three short years. 
And with a pardonable exultation, he con¬ 
nected all of it with the story of the man in 
whose company he had been traveling; and 
when he thought of how many persons were 
helped by such enterprises, to turn their indus¬ 
try to advantage, to make for themselves new 
and happy homes, and to live in comfort, 
while they helped to benefit the world at large 
by their work, he was pleased and gratified 
that he was permitted to become one of the 
instruments by which this good wa 3 done, and 
to use his own industry and intelligence for 
the advantage of bis fellow-men. 
Surely, wealth Is a valuable gift, just as 
mind and intellect are, and not a thing to 
arouse envy or hatred. And fortunately, one 
cannot accnmulate wealth, or use it in any 
way, without spreading abroad the greater 
share of its advante ges and dividing it with 
others, who. perhaps, really enjoy their shares 
with more comfort and happiness than he 
who is called the owner of it, hut who is really 
only the agent for its distribution, and then 
has the least fbare of the pleasure of using it. 
At this moment in a distant part of the 
woods a secret came to light and a mystery 
was cleared up. Joeiah Jonkins and Barley 
Merritt—now inseparable friends and com¬ 
panions—had been engaged in exploring for 
Mr. Bates and Dr. Noble, in search for de¬ 
posits of ore, and had wandered many miles 
into the deep forest beyond any former ex 
plorations. Near where they were at work 
Jonkins had had a camp on a small stream 
where he had occasionally set his traps. They 
determined to make for this camp on their 
way homewards and stay there over night. 
“Yon see my boy, I have trails all over 
there, and tbere’B fine trout in the brook, and 
we can get a good square meal there for once, 
and the pots and pans are all there; and it’s 
about time to think of doing something now 
we’re crowded out of the old place. So let’s 
go that way; we are within a mile or so of it. ” 
(To be Continued.) 
