FOREST AND STREAM. 
197 

with my cattle. 
they came together, and asI endeavored to free myself 
they became frantic and started to run; they kicked me 
under the harrow, where I became wedged between the 
iron teeth; in this position I was dragged perhaps fifty 
yards, and was only extricated by the interposition of a 
clod or stump, which sent the harrow flying some ten feet 
into the air, and left me ‘‘master of the field,” but appar- 
ently dead, One of the cruel iron teeth had gone entirely 
through one arm, aud another had made a hole in my head. 
The overseer, who chanced to witness the accident, rushed 
forth to pick me up; he and his wife were confident that I 
must die, she insisting that I should be sent to my mother. 
So in the arms of a man, seated in a small wagon, I was 
_ taken in less than an hour to my home, where I spent two 
months in bed, since which time I have studied agriculture 
in the abstract and not practically. 
But the hair-breadth escapes of my boyhood were not 
connected only with my waking hours, as the subjoined 
particulars will prove. I had gone to bed on a certain even- 
ing in my usual health, and excepting the barrow scar, my 
limbs and body were without a blemish. When summoned 
to breakfast the following morning, I uttered an incoherent 
reply, but made no attempt to get up. The more I thought 
“the more my wonder grew.” Instinctively passing my 
hand to my hip, I found there a flesh wound which was 
altogether a new experience. The bed clothes all red with 
blood now caught my eyes, and a kind of mysterious hor- 
ror took complete possession of my mind. I shouted for 
help, and the whole family were immediately in attendance, 
when a small chair, the back of which had been broken the 
day before, was found near my bcdside, with the top of 
one of its splintered pieces covered with a crimson stain. 
The truth was, I had walked off the bed in my sleep, had 
fallen upon the chair, and inflicted a wound more than an 
inch deep in my hip, and had resumed my position in bed 
without being conscious of the accident. The recollection 
of this accident always filled me with wonder, and I do not 
know that a similar one has ever been recorded. 
Another incident to which I would allude, was as fol- 
lows, and I hope the reader will forget my egotism in think- 
ing of my novel predicament. It was in the year 1836, 
and I was a boarder in a house which then stood at the cor- 
ner of Broadway and Morris street, in New York. The 
house was five stories high, and had a flat roof, and while 
my fellow boarders were in the habit of resorting thither to 
smoke their cigars in the cool of sammer evenings, my only 
visit to this roof was performed at midnight in a deep 
sleep. Clothed in my morning gown, I had strangely 
found my way upstairs, and whilst looking out upon the 
Bay of New York, and watching the play of the moonlight 
upon the waters, I was suddenly awakened, and found my- 
self standing within five feet of the edge of the roof, from 
which two steps more would have precipitated me to the 
pavement below. ‘The terror which overcame me on mak- 
ing this discovery can hardly be isnagined. 
Two other narrow escapes which I can never forget, oc- 
curred among the Catskill Mountains. 
sion I was alone. After having scrambled to the top of a 
very large boulder, lying in the bed of the Plauterkill 
stream, and overhung with foliage, for the purpose of 
sketching a particular view, I suddenly heard a crunching 
noise, felt myself moving, and by the time I had seized a limb 
above me, the great rock had tumbled into a basin several 
feet below its previous insecure foundation. Had I re- 
mained upon the boulder, instead of jumping as I did, I 
. should probably have been crushed to a jelly. On the 
other occasion alluded to, | was the guest of three very 
dear friends with whom I performed my first tramp through 
the wild scenery of Plauterkill Clove. In our upward pas- 
sage, we were obliged to scale a precipice which was well 
nigh a thousand feet high, and in doing this 1t was neces- 
sary to turn a corner, where the passage between an upper 
wall of rock and the abyss was not over twelve inches 
wide. At this particular point there grew a small cedar 
bush, the roots of which had hitherto afforded a needed 
projection for the foot of the climber. With this locality 
my companions were quite familiar, and after they had 
scaled the precipice, or rounded the corner, and stood upon 
a secure rock beyond, the three ‘‘rascally sprigs of divin- 
ity,” as I subsequently called them, began to yell and howl 
as if for the very purpose of frightening me out of my 
wits. If they did not succeed in that they certainly did in 
reducing my nerves to the consistency of rags. Vowing 
that I would not budge until my tormentors were out of 
sight, I rested for a while, and then passed around the dan- 
gerous point in safety; but in doing this my pressure upon 
the cedar bush was so great that it gave away and disap- 
peared in the abyss below. During the night which fol- 
lowed this day of mountain climbing, while my three friends 
were quietly in a huge room which we occupied together 
in a Dutch farmhouse, they were suddenly startled by a 
most horrible and unearthly moan, only to discover the de- 
ponent in mortal conflict with a nightmare, born of the 
Devil’s Chasm in Planterkill Clove.* 
Another, and last incident worth mentioning in this con- 
nection, occurred on the lower St. Lawrence in 1852. In 
this escape, however, there were no less than six persons 
interested besides myself, viz., one of my Plauterkill 
friends, with our wives, and the three Cznadian sailors 
who managed the noble little schooner in which we were 
voyaging to the river Saguenay from Quebec. The day 

*As all these friends have since then acquired considerable 
reputation as Epiecopaes clergymen, a spirit of harmless revenge, as 
well as the truth of history, compels me to give their names as follows: 
Rey. Lonis L. Neble, Rev. John 8. Kedney, and Rey, A, Frank Olmstead. 
I attempted the task and frightened them; 
On the first occa- 

had been bright and beautiful, but the sun Went into a 
cloud as if unhappy. A cooling breeze gathered over the 
waters, then came a fog and after it a series of ugly gusts 
from the northeast. At midnight something like a hurricane 
swept across the waters, but our splendid little vessel shook 
herself like a duck, and then dashed again into the opposing 
billows. The wind and the waters had it all their own 
way, and the only voice that was heard in our vessel came 
from our captain, and his words were: ‘‘Don’t fret, don’t 
fret.” In answer to one of my questions he did reply: ‘‘I 
think we are near Saguenay,” and as I thought of the ter- 
rible rocky reef and interminable sand-bar which I knew 
were coiled under the waters, ready for our destruction in 
that treacherous place, I felt myself growing pale as death. 
We threw the lead and the cry of ‘‘thirty fathoms” caused 
a glorious smile to beam from the face of our captain; an- 
other swing with the sudden shout of ‘“‘three fathoms” 
made each one hold his breath. At that moment I felt that 
our doom was sealed. I flew to the little cabin, and to my 
astonishment, found the ladies comparatively quiet. They 
were sick and also ignorant of our real situation. They 
asked me why I trembled so, and I told them I was cold. 
That was indeed almost a lic, but the thought that all 
these precious lives had been brought to such a dreadful 
end through my instrumentality, distracted me beyond 
measure. In this condition did we continue for about an 
hour, when the light of day began to appear, and in thirty 
minutes more we were snugly and safely moored in the 
little harbor, just within the mouth of the Saguenay. Our he- 
roic captain, with the help of Providence, had fought his way 
against the wind into the secure haven; and we subsequent- 
ly heard that during this dreadful storm no less than sixty 
vessels had been wrecked on the river and Gulf of St. Law- 
rence, hetween Gaspe and Quebec. 
AVoodland, Zawn and Garden. 
ee 
HEDGES AND THEIR USES. 


No IX.—Tur Osacr Orance.—Maclura. 
pe a eS 
“he shady nook 
Of hazels and the bright leaved maclura 
Intermingle in hedge row trim,” 

HE Maclura is found growing in great abundance, per- 
fectly rampant near what is called the ‘‘ Red River’ 
plantation in Texas and Arkansas, and it is also to be found 
very abundant in all the country east of the Rocky Mountains, 
This plant or tree, is found as far north as the thirty-fourth 
degree north latitude. 
This plant will grow perfectly well in all parts of the 
United States, as has been most satisfactorily proved by 
numerous well tried experiments. The question: ‘‘ Will 
the Maclura grow and make a good hedge in the United 
States?”—no longer needs an answer, for every experiment 
has given its testimony in the affirmative. 
This very interesting tree in its favorite localities, the 
Arkansas River, and the western tributaries of the Missis- 
sippi, attains the height of 50 or 60 feet. The Osage 
orange is in its branches a light-colored wood, and is 
armed with sharp spines at every joint, a very formidable 
armor, or self-protection; these spinal points being very 
strong and sharp are about an inch and one half in length. 
The leaves of this plant are long and ovate, and accuminate, 
or pointed at the extremity; in color deep green, very glossy 
and of brighter color than the true orange leaves. The 
blossoms of this plant are of a greenish color, and the fruit 
about the size and shape of an orange, but the Osage 
orange possesses a very rough skin or outside covering much 
more tough than the orange of Florida. 
Previous to the year 1858 but little compared with what 
is now known of this plant, was then known. It was at 
that time regarded as a sort of curiosity, having been first 
introduced into the American gardens from seeds procured 
of the Osage Indians. From this circumstance the plant 
derived the common name of Osage orange. 
The final introduction of this tree as an aid to the horti- 
culturist may be said to be due to Lewis and Clark’s expe- 
dition. By them it was called Maclura, in honor of Wm. 
Maclure, President of the American Academy of Natural 
Sciences. The Osage orange is one of that peculiar class of 
plants called the Monoecious; it does not perfect its fruits 
unless both male and female trees are growing in the same 
vicinity. The Osage orange cannot be called very beauti- 
ful as an ornamental tree for the reason of its looseness 
of habit, or inclination to throw out many and widely 
spreading branches. Its bright, glossy, shining leaves, and 
the very unique and peculiar appearance of the full grown 
tree compensate in a good degree for what would otherwise 
be callei defects in its character. 
This tree when covered with its large orange colored 
fruit, is indeed a beautiful sight to behold, and was justly 
styled by Mr. Downing ‘‘one of our most interesting and 
valuable ornamental trees.” 
One of these trees introduced upon a small lawn where 
but few specimen trees are growing, gives a decided and 
rich variety to the grouping that cannot be obtained from 
the use of any other kind of tree. As a combination tree, 
we cull it first-class, and by no means to be omitted from 
the selection of trees for a beautiful garden. It is one of 
the finest of our shade trees, a hardy growing, clean, desi- 
rable wood. By many amateurs the stout growth and for- 
midable thorns have been thought admirable qualities, ad- 
ding much to its usefulness as a plant well adapted to 
hedges. These are undoubtedly qualifications in its favor, 

and this plant has, as is well known, made a steady advance 
in securing the public confidence as a very useful and cheap 
live fence plant. In all ourmiddle and southern states the 
Osage orange has been adapted as a hedge plant, and as far 
we can learn has always given entire satisfaction. This 
plant requires, to grow well and fully develope itself as a 
tree* a rich, deep loan, As it is quite tender when young, 
the soil should be also somewhat dry; perhaps a dry 
soil is preferable to a very moist one. 
One of the best ways of procuring this hedge plant is 
raising the same from the seed. And in this more of care 
than real difficulty occurs. The ground for the reception 
of the seed must be prepared in the most thorough manner; 
deeply trenched and well pulverised; the seed when pre- 
pared for sowing is to be planted in drills, eighteen to 
twenty inches apart, with about twelve seeds to one foot in 
a row, or the seeds as near as you can drop them one inch 
apart. October and November the planting months of the 
fall. 
For the fall planting the seeds are to be planted soon 
after they are gathered. It is always best when one can 
(say many authorities) to plant the Osage orange seed in 
the fall. For spring planting you will be quite particular 
to observe the following directions :-— 
Your seed must always be frozen or soaked. If you pre- 
fer to plant frozen seed it should be well mixed with sand 
and placed in boxes hat will not hold water, and then ex- 
posed to the cold freezing weather of the winter months, 
These seeds can the be planted in the spring as soon as 
they begin to sprout, If you wish to soak your seed, as 
soon as first of April put the seeds to be soaked in a tight 
vessel, and cover them with hot (not boiling) water and let 
them soak in warm water about seven days, changing the 
water thrice or more times to prevent fermentation, which 
is to be avoided. Then put these seeds in boxes of four to 
six inches in depth, and mix well and intimately with 
sand. These seeds are to be kept moist and warm until 
they show signs of sprouting, which in most cases will bein 
a few days; then plant your seed as before recommended: 
If your ground is g9o0d and friable anc does not crust or 
bake as it is termed, you may be sure of soon seeing the 
seeds peeping up ulder the form of the hedge plant. If 
the above directions are fully carried ont you may rest 
assured of success in the future. 
To set out the young plants in the hedge row in which 
they are to stand is the next consideration for the gardener 
or the proprietor to consider. We pre-suppose the ground 
to have been before this deeply ploughed and thoroughly 
pulverised and broken up. A line is now to be stretched, 
and the plants to be carefully taken from the nursery 
and selected with niuch care as to size and distances apart. 
The Osage orange is reckoned in the catalogue of hedge 
plants as a third rate rorest tree—and all such trees when 
used as hedges require natural or artificial dwarfing... We 
recommend in all cases the natural system as being always 
the best, and our own treatment of hedges in this manner 
has given us the utmost confidence in the utility of this 
method. + 
We do not like to cut the Moclura when we can help it, 
and have found when the same has been set six inches apart 
in single row it has almost invariably taken on the 
dwarf form, growing nearly into a fine shrub, still retaining 
in a singular degree all its wonted health and vigor, and 
making a good firm protection, sooner, and at a much less 
cost of time and money, than any other mode of planting 
that I am conversant with. 
The culfivation of a hedge of this kind for the first two 
years is mainly keeping the ground about the same clear 
from all weeds and well pulverised. 
In some sections of our country these hedges sometimes 
suffer the first winter from the ‘‘ heaving of the frost,” as 
it is called. This will not occur on well drained grounds. 
Every one knows, or should know, that the process called 
hedge draining, is formed by turning a furrow towards the 
plant on each side late in the fall to carry off the winter 
rains. The Osage orange in two years generally acquires a 
strong vigorous root, and is now to be cut down and put in 
trimming for future use. This is the heading down and 
training. 
In the spring of the third year the trees should be cut 
down to the surface of the ground. Each root will then 
send up a number of strong thrifty shoots, and when these 
have grown to be one foot in height they should be like the 
old plant, cut down to within two inches of the ground. 
These shoots—for the roots have become strong and vigor- 
ous—will in their turn again send up an abundance of shoots 
from the place of the fcrmer cutting. When these last 
have grown to ten or twelve inches, cut them off down to 
within two inches of the last cutting, pruning several 
times during whe season, for—these plants having got good 
soil rapidly approximate towards a good hecge—being quite 
particular to keep in view the final shape and appearance 
of your hedge. In order to have a fine hedge you must 
keep in your mind as a fixed fact, that no hedge can be 
called good which is destitute of proportion and regularity 
of form from the beginning. 
*A fine effect may be produced by a peculiar mode of pruning called 
“cutting back.’’ Mr. Downing showed us the effect of this mode of 
pruning upon a fine specimen near Baltimore, The English call this 
method of pruning ‘“‘stalling,” compelling the plant to send out a dozen 
leading shoots instead of one. A plant thus treated becomes in a few 
years a gigantie bush, perfectly round headed, and yery luxuriant, us 
Was the one we saw at Dr. Edmondston’s. The plant was twenty-four 
years old, and measured in circumference one hundred and sixty feet. 
the growth of the limbs being perfectly Wonderful to behold. Had we 
not had the pleasure of seeing this wonderful specimen of the gardener’s 
art we could scarcely believed it to have been a fact. 
+Planting the plants within six inches of each other when they are of 
equal size gives all vu equal start, and consegnently they fake the shrub 
form alike, 
