The succesive changes in the spontaneous growth of the forest, as proved by the character of the wood found in bogs, are such as to have suggested the theory of a considerable change of climate during the human period. But strobus, as it is the most valuable, is also perhaps the most delicate tree of the American forest, while its congener, the Northern pitch-pine, Pinus rigida, is less injured by fire than any other tree of that country. I have heard experienced lumbermen maintain that the growth of this pine was even accelerated by a fire brisk enough to destroy all other trees, and I have myself seen it still flourishing after a conflagration which had left not a green leaf but its own in the wood, and actually throwing out fresh foliage, when the old had been quite burnt off and the bark almost converted into charcoal. The wood of the pitch-pine is of comparatively little value for the joiner, but it is useful for very many purposes. Its rapidity of growth in even poor soils, its hardihood, and its abundant yield of resinous products, entitle it to much more consideration, as a plantation tree, than it has hitherto received in Europe or America.] without fatal injury to the younger growths, the native forest will hear several "cuttings over" in a generation—for the increasing value of lumber brings into use, every four or five years, a quality of timber which had been before rejected as unmarketable—a fire may render the declivity of a mountain unproductive for a century. [Footnote: Between sixty and seventy years ago, a steep mountain with which I am familiar, composed of metamorphic rock, and at that time covered with a thick coating of soil and a dense primeval forest, was accidentally burnt over. The fire took place in a very dry season, the slope of the mountain was too rapid to retain much water, and the conflagration was of an extraordinarily fierce character, consuming the wood almost entirely, burning the leaves and combustible portion of the mould, and in many places cracking and disintegrating the rock beneath. The rains of the following autumn carried off much of the remaining soil, and the mountain-side was nearly bare of wood for two or three years afterwards. At length a new crop of trees sprang up and grew vigorously, and the mountain is now thickly covered again. But the depth of mould and earth is too small to allow the trees to reach maturity. When they attain to the diameter of about six inches, they uniformly die, and this they will no doubt continue to do until the decay of leaves and wood on the surface, and the decomposition of the subjacent rock, shall have formed, perhaps hundreds of years hence, a stratum of soil thick enough to support a full-grown forest. Under favorable conditions, however, as in the case of the fire of Miramichi, a burnt forest renews itself rapidly and permanently.]

Aside from the destruction of the trees and the laying bare of the soil, and consequently the freer admission of sun, rain, and air to the ground, the fire of itself exerts an important influence on its texture and condition. It cracks and sometimes even pulverizes the rocks and stones upon and near the surface; [Footnote: In the burning over of a hill-forest in the Lower Engadine, in September, 1865, the fire was so intense as to shatter and calcine the rocks on the slope, and their fragments were precipitated into the valley below.—Rivista Forestale del Regno d'Italia, Ottobre, 1865, p. 474.] it consumes a portion of the half-decayed vegetable mould which served to hold its mineral particles together and to retain the water of precipitation, and thus loosens, pulverizes, and dries the earth; it destroys reptiles, insects, and worms, with their eggs, and the seeds of trees and of smaller plants; it supplies, in the ashes which it deposits on the surface, important elements for the growth of a new forest clothing, as well as of the usual objects of agricultural industry; and by the changes thus produced, it fits the ground for the reception of a vegetation different in character from that which had spontaneously covered it. These new conditions help to explain the natural succession of forest crops, so generally observed in all woods cleared by fire and then abandoned. There is no doubt, however, that other influences contribute to the same result, because effects more or less analogous follow when the trees are destroyed by other causes, as by high winds, by the woodman's axe, and even by natural decay. [Footnote: The remarkable mounds and other earthworks constructed in the valley of the Ohio and elsewhere in the territory of the United States, by a people apparently more advanced in culture than the modern Indian, were overgrown with a dense clothing of forest when first discovered by the whites. But though the ground where they were erected must have been occupied by a large population for a considerable length of time, and therefore entirely cleared, the trees which grew upon the ancient fortresses and the adjacent lands were not distinguishable in species, or even in dimensions and character of growth, from the neighboring forests, where the soil seemed never to have been disturbed. This apparent exception to the law of change of crop in natural forest growth was ingeniously explained by General Harrison's suggestion, that the lapse of time since the era of the mound-builders were so great as to have embraced several successive generations of trees, and occasioned, by their rotation, a return to the original vegetation.

The successive changes in the spontaneous growth of the forest, as proved by the character of a wood found in bogs, are such as to have suggested the theory of a considerable change of the climate during the human period. But this theory cannot be admitted upon the evidence in question. In fact, the order of succession—for a rotation or alternation is neither proved nor probable—may be made to move in opposite directions in different countries with the same climate and at the same time. Thus in Denmark and in Holland the spike-leaved firs have given place to the broad-leaved beech, while in Northern Germany the process has been reversed, and evergreens have supplanted the oaks and birches of deciduous foliage. The principal determining cause seems to be the influence of light upon the germination of the seeds and the growth of the young tree. In a forest of firs, for instance, the distribution of the light and shade, to the influence of which seeds and shoots are exposed, is by no means the same as in a wood of beeches or of oaks, and hence the growth of different species will be stimulated in the two forests.

When ground is laid bare both of trees and of vegetable mould, and left to the action of unaided and unobstructed nature, she first propagates trees which germinate and grow only under the influence of a full supply of light and air, and then, in succession, other species, according to their ability to bear the shade and their demand for more abundant nutriment. In Northern Europe the large, the white birch, the aspen, first appear; then follow the maple, the alder, the ash, the fir; then the oak and the linden; and then the beech. The trees called by these respective names in the United States are not specifically the same as their European namesakes, nor are they always even the equivalents of these latter, and therefore the order of succession in America would not be precisely as indicated by the foregoing list, but, so far as is known, it nevertheless very nearly corresponds to it.

It is thought important to encourage the growth of the beech in Denmark and Northern Germany, because it upon the whole yields better returns than other trees, and does not exhaust, but on the contrary enriches, the soil; for by shedding its leaves it returns to it most of the nutriment it has drawn from it, and at the same time furnishes a solvent which aids materially in the decomposition of its mineral constituents.

When the forest is left to itself, the order of succession is constant, and its occasional inversion is always explicable by some human interference. It is curious that the trees which require most light are content with the poorest soils, and vice versa. The trees which first appear are also those which propagate themselves farthest to the north. The birch, the larch, and the fir bear a severer climate than the oak, the oak than the beech. "These parallelisms," says Vaupell, "are very interesting, because, though they are entirely independent of each other," they all prescribe the same order of succession.—Bogens Indvandring, p. 42. See alo Berg, Das Verdrangen der Laubralder im Nordlichen Deutschland, 1844. Heyer, Das Verhalten der Waldbaume gegen Licht und Schatten, 1852. Staring, De Bodem van Nederland, 1856, i., pp. 120-200. Vaupell, De Danske Skove, 1863. Knorr, Studien uber die Buchen-Wirthschaft, 1863. A. Maury, Les Forets de la Gaule, pp. 73, 74, 377, 384.]

Another evil, sometimes of serious magnitude, which attends the operations of the lumberman, is the injury to the banks of rivers from the practice of floating. I do not here allude to rafts, which, being under the control of those who navigate them, may be so guided as to avoid damage to the shore, but to masts, logs, and other pieces of timber singly entrusted to the streams, to be conveyed by their currents to sawmill ponds, or to convenient places for collecting them into rafts. The lumbermen usually haul the timber to the banks of the rivers in the winter, and when the spring floods swell the streams and break up the ice, they roll the logs into the water, leaving them to float down to their destination. If the transporting stream is too small to furnish a sufficient channel for this rude navigation, it is sometimes dammed up, and the timber collected in the pond thus formed above the dam. When the pond is full, a sluice is opened, or the dam is blown up or otherwise suddenly broken, and the whole mass of lumber above it is hurried down with the rolling flood. Both of these modes of proceeding expose the banks of the rivers employed as channels of flotation to abrasion, [Footnote: Caimi states that "a single flotation in the Valtelline, in 1830, caused damages appraised at $250,000."—Cenni sulla Importanza e Coltura dei Boschi, p. 65.] and in some of the American States it has been found necessary to protect, by special legislation, the lands through which they flow from the serious injury sometimes received through the practices I have described. [Footnote: Many physicists who have investigated the laws of natural hydraulics maintain that, in consequence of direct obstruction and frictional resistance to the flow of the water of rivers along their banks, there is both an increased rapidity of current and an elevation of the water in the middle of the channel, so that a river presents always a convex surface. Others have thought that the acknowledged greater swiftness of the central current must produce a depression in that part of the stream. The lumbermen affirm that, while rivers are rising, the water is highest in the middle of the channel, and tends to throw floating objects shorewards; while they are falling, it is lowest in the middle, and floating objects incline towards the centre. Logs, they say, rolled into the water during the rise, are very apt to lodge on the banks, while those set afloat during the falling of the waters keep in the current, and are carried without hindrance to their destination, and this law, which has been a matter of familiar observation among woodmen for generations, is now admitted as a scientific truth.

Foresters and lumbermen, like sailors and other persons whose daily occupations bring them into contact, and often into conflict, with great natural forces, have many peculiar opinions, not to say superstitious. In one of these categories we must rank the universal belief of lumbermen, that with a given head of water, and in a given number of hours, a sawmill cuts more lumber by night than by day. Having been personally interested in several sawmills, been assured by them that their uniform experiences established the fact that, other things being equal, the action of the machinery of sawmills is more rapid by night than by day. I am sorry—perhaps I ought to be ashamed—to say that my skepticism has been too strong to allow me to avail myself of my ooportunites of testing this question by passing a night, watch in hand, counting the strokes of a millisaw. More unprejudiced, and, I must add, very intelligent and credible persons have informed me that they have done so, and found the report of the sawyers abundantly confirmed. A land surveyor, who was also an experienced lumberman, sawyer, and machinist, a good mathematician, and an accurate observer, has repeatedly told me that he had very often "timed" sawmills, and before the difference in favor of night-work above thirty per cent. Sed quaere.]

Restoration of the Forest.

In most countries of Europe—and I fear in many parts of the United States—the woods are already so nearly extirpated, that the mere protection of those which now exist is by no means an adequate security against a great increase of the evils which have already resulted from the diminution of them. Besides this, experience has shown that where the destruction of the woods has been carried beyond a certain point, no coercive legislation can absolutely secure the permanence of the remainder, especially if it is held by private hands. The creation of new forests, therefore, is generally recognized, wherever the subject has received the attention it merits, as an indispensable measure of sound public economy. Enlightened individuals in some European states, the Governments in others, have made extensive plantations, and France, particularly, has now set herself energetically at work to restore the woods in her southern provinces, and thereby to prevent the utter depopulation and waste with which that once fertile soil and genial climate are threatened.

The objects of the restoration of the forest are as multifarious as the motives that have led to its destruction, and as the evils which that destruction has occasioned. It is hoped that the replanting of the mountain slopes, and of bleak and infertile plains, will diminish the frequency and violence of river inundations, prevent the formation of new torrents and check the violence of those already existing, mitigate the extremes of atmospheric temperature, humidity, and precipitation, restore dried-up springs, rivulets, and sources of irrigation, shelter the fields from chilling and from parching winds, arrest the spread of miasmatic effluvia, and, finally, furnish a self-renewing and inexhaustible supply of a material indispensable to so many purposes of domestic comfort, and to the successful exercise of every art of peace, every destructive energy of war. [Footnote: The preservation of the woods on the former eastern frontier of France, as a kind of natural abattis, was recognized by the Government of that country as an important measure of military defence, though there have been conflicting opinions on the subject.]

The Economy of the Forest.

The legislation of European states upon sylviculture, and the practice of that art, divide themselves into two great branches—the preservation of existing forests, and the creation of new. Although there are in Europe many forests neither planted nor regularly trained by man, yet from the long operation of causes already set forth, what is understood in America and other new countries by the "primitive forest," no longer exists in the territories which were the seats of ancient civilization and empire, except upon a small scale, and in remote and almost inaccessible glens quite out of the reach of ordinary observation. The oldest European woods are indeed native, that is, sprung from self-sown seed, or from the roots of trees which have been felled for human purposes; but their growth has been controlled, in a variety of ways, by man and by domestic animals, and they almost uniformly present more or less of an artificial character and arrangement. Both they and planted forests—which, though certainly not few, are of comparatively recent date in Europe—demand, as well for protection as for promotion of growth, a treatment different in some respects from that which would be suited to the character and wants of the virgin wood.

On this latter branch of the subject, the management of the primitive wood, experience and observation have not yet collected a sufficient stock of facts to serve for the construction of a complete system of this department of sylviculture; but the government of the forest as it exists in France—the different zones and climates of which country present many points of analogy with those of the United States and of some of the British colonies—has been carefully studied, and several manuals of practice have been prepared for the foresters of that empire. I believe the Cours Elementaire de Culture des Bois cree a l'Ecole Forestiere de Nancy, par M. Lorentz, complete et public par A. Parade, with a supplement under the title of Cours d'Amenagement des Forets, par Henri Nanquette, has been generally considered the best of these. The Etudes sur l'Economie Forestiere, par Jules Clave, which I have often quoted, presents a great number of interesting views on this subject, but it is not designed as a practical guide, and it does not profess to be sufficiently specific in its details to serve that purpose. [Footnote: Among more recent manuals may be mentioned: in French, Les Etudes de Maitre Pierre, Paris, 1864, 12mo; Bazelaire, Traite de Roboisement, 2d edition. Paris 1864; Paston, L'Amenagemend des Forets, Paris, 1867; in English, Gregor, Arboriculture, Edinburgh, 1868: in Italian, Siemoni 's very valuable Manuale teorico-pratico d'Arte Forestale, 2d ediz., Firenze, 1872; the excellent work of Cerini, Dei Vantaggi di Societe, por l'Impianto e Conservazione dei Boschi, Milano, 1844, 8vo; and the prize essay of Meguscher, Memoria sui Boschi, etc., 2d edizione, Milano, 1859, 8vo. Another very important treatise of the uses of the forest, though not a manual of sylviculture, is Schleiden, Fur Baum und Wald, Leipzig, 1870.]Notwithstanding the difference of conditions between the aboriginal and the trained forest, the judicious observer who aims at the preservation of the former will reap much instruction from the treatises I have cited, and I believe he will be convinced that the sooner a natural wood is brought into the state of an artificially regulated one, the better it is for all the multiplied interests which depend on the wise administration of this branch of public economy.

One consideration bearing on this subject has received less attention than it merits, because most persons interested in such questions have not opportunities for the comparison I refer to. I mean the great general superiority of cultivated timber to that of strictly spontaneous growth. I say GENERAL superiority, because there are exceptions to the rule. The white pine, Pinus strobus, for instance, and other trees of similar character and uses, require, for their perfect growth and best ligneous texture, a density of forest vegetation around them, which protects them from too much agitation by wind, and from the persistence of the lateral branches which fill the wood with knots. A pine which has grown under those conditions possesses a tall, straight stem, admirably fitted for masts and spars, and, at the same time, its wood is almost wholly free from knots, is regular in annular structure, soft and uniform in texture, and, consequently, superior to almost all other timber for joinery. If, while a large pine is spared, the broad-leaved or other smaller trees around it are felled, the swaying of the tree from the action of the wind mechanically produces separations between the layers of annual growth, and greatly diminishes the value of the timber. The same defect is often observed in pines which, from some accident of growth, have much overtopped their fellows in the virgin forest.

The white pine, growing in the fields, or in open glades in the woods, is totally different from the true forest-tree, both in general aspect and in quality of wood. Its stem is much shorter, its top less tapering, its foliage denser and more inclined to gather into tufts, its branches more numerous and of larger diameter, its wood shows much more distinctly the divisions of annual growth, is of coarser grain, harder and more difficult to work into mitre-joints. Intermixed with the most valuable pines in the American forests, are met many trees of the character I have just described. The lumbermen call them "saplings," and generally regard them as different in species from the true white pine, but botanists are unable to establish a distinction between them, and as they agree in almost all respects with trees grown in the open grounds from known white-pine seedlings, I believe their peculiar character is due to unfavorable circumstances in their early growth. The pine, then, is an exception to the general rule as to the inferiority of the forest to the open-ground tree. The pasture oak and pasture beech, on the contrary, are well known to produce far better timber than those grown in the woods, and there are few trees to which the remark is not equally applicable. [Footnote: It is often laid down as a universal law, that the wood of trees of slow vegetation is superior to that of quick growth. This is one of those commonplaces by which men love to shield themselves from the labor of painstaking observation. It has, in fact, so many exceptions, that it may be doubted in whether it is in any sense true. Most of the cedars are slow of growth; but while the timber of some of them is firm and durable, that of others is light, brittle, and perishable. The hemlock-spruce is slower of growth than the pines, but its wood is of very little value. The pasture oak and beech show a breadth of grain—and, of course, an annual increment—twice as great as trees of the same species grown in the woods; and the American locust, Robinia pseudacacia, the wood of which is of extreme toughness and durability, is, of all trees indigenous to North-eastern America, by far the most rapid in growth. Some of the species of the Australian Eucalyptus furnish wood of remarkable strength and durability, and yet the eucalyptus is surpassed by no known tree in rapidity of growth.

As an illustration of the mutual interdependence of the mechanic arts, I may mention that in Italy, where stone, brick, and plaster are almost the only materials used in architecture, and where the "hollow ware" kitchen implements are of copper or of clay, the ordinary tools for working wood are of a very inferior description, and the locust timber is found too hard for their temper. At the same time the work of the Italian stipettai, or cabinet-makers, and carvers in wood, who take pains to provide themselves with tools of better metal, is wholly unsurpassed in finish and in accuracy of adjustment as well as in taste. When a small quantity of mahogany was brought to England, early in the last century, the cabinet-makers were unable to use it, from the defective temper of their tools, until the demand for furniture from the new wood compelled them to improve the quality of their implements. In America, the cheapness of wood long made it the preferable material for almost all purposes to which it could by any possibility be applied. The mechanical cutlery and artisans' tools of the United States are of admirable temper, finish, and convenience, and no wood is too hard, or otherwise too refractory, to be wrought with great facility, both by hand-tools and by the multitude of ingenious machines which the Americans have invented for this purpose.]

Another advantage of the artificially regulated forest is, that it admits of such grading of the ground as to favor the retention or discharge of water at will, while the facilities it affords for selecting and duly proportioning, as well as properly spacing, and in felling and removing, from time to time, the trees which compose it, are too obvious to require to be more than hinted at. In conducting these operations, we must have a diligent eye to the requirements of nature, and must remember that a wood is not an arbitrary assemblage of trees to be selected and disposed according to the caprice of its owner. "A forest," says Clave, "is not, as is often supposed, a simple collection of trees succeeding each other in long perspective, without bond of union, and capable of isolation from each other; it is, on the contrary, a whole, the different parts of which are interdependent upon each other, and it constitutes, so to speak, a true individuality. Every forest has a special character, determined by the form of the surface it grows upon, the kinds of trees that compose it, and the manner in which they are grouped." The art, or, as the Continental foresters rather ambitiously call it, the science of sylviculture has been so little pursued in England and America, that its nomenclature has not been introduced into the English vocabulary, and it would not be possible to describe its processes with technical propriety of language, without occasionally borrowing a word from the forest literature of France and Germany. A full discussion of the methods of sylviculture would, indeed, be out of place in a work like the present, but the want of conveniently accessible means of information on the subject, in the United States, will justify me in presenting it with somewhat more of detail than would otherwise be pertinent.

The two best known methods of treating already existing forests are those distinguished as the TAILLIS, copse or coppice treatment, [Footnote: COPSE, or COPPICE, from the French COUPER, to cut, means properly a wood, the trees of which are cut at certain periods of immature growth, and allowed to shoot up again from the roots; but it has come to signify, very commonly, a young wood, grove, or thicket, without reference to its origin, or to the character of a forest crop.] and the FUTAIE, for which I find no English equivalent, but which may not inappropriately be called the FULL-GROWTH system. A TAILLIS, copse, or coppice, is a wood composed of shoots from the roots of trees previously cut for fuel and timber. The shoots are thinned out from time to time, and finally cut, either after a fixed number of years, or after the young trees have attained to certain dimensions, their roots being then left to send out a new progeny as before. This is the cheapest method of management, and therefore the best whenever the price of labor and of capital bears a high proportion to that of land and of timber; but it is essentially a wasteful economy. [Footnote: "In America," says Clave (p. 124, 125), "where there is a vast extent of land almost without pecuniary value, but where labor is dear and the rate of interest high, it is profitable to till a large surface at the least possible cost. EXTENSIVE cultivation is there the most advantageous. In England, France, and Germany, where every corner of soil is occupied, and the least bit of ground is sold at a high price, but where labor and capital are comparatively cheap is wisest to employ INTENSIVE cultivation. ... All the efforts of the cultivator ought to be directed to the obtaining of a given result with the least sacrifice, and there is equally a loss to the commonwealth if the application of improved agricultural processes be neglected where they are advantageous, or if they be employed where they are not required. ... In this point of view, sylviculture must follow the same laws as agriculture, and, like it, be modified according to the economical conditions of different states. In countries abounding in good forests, and thinly peopled, elementary and cheap methods must be pursued; in civilized regions, where a dense population requires that the soil shall be made to produce all it can yield, the regular artificial forest, with all the processes that science teaches, should be cultivated. It would be absurd to apply to the endless woods of Brazil and of Canada the method of the Spessart by "double stages," but not less so in our country, where every yard of ground has a high value, to leave to nature the task of propagating trees, and to content ourselves with cutting, every twenty or twenty-five years, the meagre growths that chance may have produced."] If the woodland is, in the first place, completely cut over as is found most convenient in practice, the young shoots have neither the shade nor the protection from wind so important to forest growth, and their progress is comparatively slow, while at the same time, the thick clumps they form choke the seedlings that may have sprouted near them. [Footnote: In ordinary coppices, there are few or no seedlings, because the young shoots are cut before they are old enough to mature fertile seed, and this is one of the strongest objections to the system.] The evergreens, once cut do not shoot up again, [Footnote: It was not long ago stated, upon the evidence of the Government foresters of Greece, and of the queen's gardener, that a large wood has been discovered in Arcadia, consisting of a fir which has the property of sending up both vertical and lateral shoots from the stump of felled trees and forming a new crown. It was at first supposed that this forest grew only on the "mountains," of which the hero of About's most amusing story, Le Roi des Montagnes, was "king;" but stumps, with the shoots attached, have been sent to Germany, and recognized by able botanists as true natural products, and the fact must now be considered as established. Daubeny refers to Theophrastus as ascribing this faculty of reproduction to the 'Elate [word in greek] or fir, but he does not cite chapter and verse, and I have not been able to find the passage. The same writer mentions a case where an entire forest of the common fir in France had been renewed in this way.—Trees and Shrubs of the Ancients, 1865, pp. 27-28. The American Northern pitch possesses the same power in a certain degree.

According to Charles Martins, the cedar of Mount Atlas—which, if not identical with the cedar of Lebanon, is closely allied to it—possesses the same power.—Revue des Deux Mondes, July 15, 1864, p. 315.] and the mixed character of the forest—in many respects an important advantage, if not an indispensable condition of growth—is lost; [Footnote: Natural forests are rarely, if ever, composed of trees of a single species, and experience has shown that oaks and other broad-leaved trees, planted as artificial woods, require to be mixed, or associated with others of different habits.

In the forest of Fontainebleau, "oaks, mingled with beeches in due proportion," says Clave, "may arrive at the age of five or six hundred years in full vigor, and attain dimensions which I have never seen surpassed; when, however, they are wholly unmixed with other trees, they begin to decay and die at the top, at the age of forty or fifty years, like men, old before their time, weary of the world, and longing only to quit it. This has been observed in most of the oak plantations of which I have spoken, and they have not been able to attain to full growth. When the vegetation was perceived to languish, they were cut, in the hope that this operation would restore their vigor, and that the new shoots would succeed better than the original trees; and, in fact, they seemed to be recovering for the first few years. But the shoots were soon attacked by the same decay, and the operation had to be renewed at shorter and shorter intervals, until at last it was found necessary to treat as coppices plantations originally designed for the full-growth system. Nor was this all: the soil, periodically bared by these cuttings, became impoverished, and less and less suited to the growth of the oak. ... It was then proposed to introduce the pine and plant with it the vacancies and glades.

"... By this means, the forest was saved from the ruin which threatened it, and now more than 10,000 acres of pines, from fifteen to thirty years old are disseminated at various points, sometimes intermixed with broad-leaved trees, sometimes forming groves by themselves"—Revue des Deux Mondes, Mai, 1863, pp. 153, 154.] and besides this, large wood of any species cannot be grown in this method because trees which shoot from decaying stumps and their dying roots, become hollow or otherwise unsound before they acquire their full dimensions. A more fatal objection still, is, that the roots of trees will not bear more than two or three, or at most four cuttings of their shoots before their vitality is exhausted, and the wood can then be restored only by replanting entirely.

The period of cutting coppices varies in Europe from fifteen to forty years, according to soil, species, and rapidity of growth. In the futaie, or full-growth system, the trees are allowed to stand as long as they continue in healthy and vigorous growth. This is a shorter period than would be at first supposed, when we consider the advanced age and great dimensions to which, under favorable circumstances, many forest-trees attain in temperate climates. But, as every observing person familiar with the forest is aware, these are exceptional cases, just as are instances of great longevity or of gigantic stature among men. Able vegetable physiologists have maintained that the tree, like most fish and reptiles, has no natural limit of life or of growth, and that the only reason why our oaks and our pines do not reach the age of twenty centuries and the height of a hundred fathoms, is, that in the multitude of accidents to which they are exposed, the chances of their attaining to such a length of years and to such dimensions of growth are millions to one against them. But another explanation of this fact is possible. In trees affected by no discoverable external cause of death, decay begins at the topmost branches, which seem to wither and die for want of nutriment. The mysterious force by which the sap is carried from the roots to the utmost twigs, cannot be conceived to be unlimited in power, and it is probable that it differs in different species, so that while it may suffice to raise the fluid to the height of five hundred feet in the eucalyptus, it may not be able to carry it beyond one hundred and fifty in the oak. The limit may be different, too, in different trees of the same species, not from defective organization in those of inferior growth, but from more or less favorable conditions of soil, nourishment, and exposure. Whenever a tree attains to the limit beyond which its circulating fluids cannot rise, we may suppose that decay begins, and death follows from want of nutrition at the extremities, and from the same causes which bring about the same results in animals of limited size—such, for example, as the interruption of functions essential to life, in consequence of the clogging up of ducts by matter assimilable in the stage of growth, but no longer so when increment has ceased. In the natural woods we observe that, though, among the myriads of trees which grow upon a square mile, there are several vegetable giants, yet the great majority of them begin to decay long before they have attained their maximum of stature, and this seems to be still more emphatically true of the artificial forest. In France, according to Clave, "oaks, in a suitable soil, may stand, without exhibiting any sign of decay, for two or three hundred years; the pines hardly exceed one hundred and twenty, and the soft or white woods [bois blancs], in wet soils, languish, and die before reaching the fiftieth year." [Footnote: Etudes Forestieres, p. 80.] These ages are certainly below the average of those of American forest-trees, and are greatly exceeded in very numerous well-attested instances of isolated trees in Europe.

The former mode of treating the futaie, called the garden system, was to cut the trees individually as they arrived at maturity, but, in the best regulated forests, this practice has been abandoned for the German method, which embraces not only the securing of the largest immediate profit, but the replanting of the forest, and the care of the young growth. This is effected in the case of a forest, whether natural or artificial, which is to be subjected to regular management, by three operations. The first of these consists in felling about one-third of the trees, in such way as to leave convenient spaces for the growth of seedlings. The remaining two-thirds are relied upon to replant the vacancies, by natural sowing, which they seldom or never fail to do. The seedlings are watched, are thinned out when too dense, and the ill-formed and sickly, as well as those of species of inferior value, and the shrubs and thorns which might otherwise choke or too closely shade them, are pulled up. When they have attained sufficient strength and development of foliage to require, or at least to bear, more light and air, the second step is taken, by removing a suitable proportion of the old trees which had been spared at the first cutting; and when, finally, the younger trees are hardened enough to bear frost and sun without other protection than that which they mutually give to each other, the remainder of the original forest is felled, and the wood now consists wholly of young and vigorous trees. This result is obtained after about twenty years. At convenient periods, the unhealthy stocks and those injured by wind or other accidents are removed, and in some instances the growth of the remainder is promoted by irrigation or by fertilizing applications. [Footnote: The grounds which it is most important to clothe with wood as a conservative influence, and which, also, can best be spared from agricultural use, are steep hillsides. But the performance of all the offices of the forester to the tree—seeding, planting, thinning, trimming, and finally felling and removing for consumption—is more laborious upon a rapid declivity than on a level soil, and at the same time it is difficult to apply irrigation or manures to trees so situated. Experience has shown that there in great advantage in terracing the face of a hill before planting it, both as preventing the wash of the earth by checking the flow of water down its slope, and as presenting a surface favorable for irrigation, as well as for manuring and cultivating the tree. But even without so expensive a process, very important results have been obtained by simply ditching declivities. "In order to hasten the growth of wood on the flanks of a mountain, Mr. Eugene Chevandier divided the slope into zones forty or fifty feet wide, by horizontal ditches closed at both ends, and thereby obtained, from firs of different ages, shoots double the dimensions of those which grew on a dry soil of the same character, where the water was allowed to run off without obstruction."—Dumont, Des Travaux Publics, etc., pp. 94-96. The ditches were about two feet and a half deep, and three feet and a half wide, and they cost about forty francs the hectare, or three dollars the acre. This extraordinary growth was produced wholly by the retention of the rain-water in the ditches, whence it filtered through the whole soil and supplied moisture to the roots of the trees. It may be doubted whether in a climate cold enough to freeze the entire contents of the ditches in winter, it would not be expedient to draw off the water in the autumn, as the presence of so large a quantity of ice in the soil might prove injurious to trees too young and small to shelter the ground effectually against frost.

Chevandier computes that, if the annual growth of the pine in the marshy and too humid soil of the Vosges be represented by one, it will equal two in ordinary dry ground, four or five on slopes so ditched or graded as to retain the water flowing upon them from roads or steep declivities, and six where the earth is kept sufficiently moist by infiltration from running brooks.—Comptes Rendus a l'Academie des Sciences, t. xix., Juillet, Dec., 1844, p. 167. The effect of accidental irrigation in well shown in the growth of the trees planted along the canals of irrigation which traverse the fields in many parts of Italy. They nourish most luxuriantly, in spite of continual lopping, and yield a very important contribution to the stock of fuel for domestic use while trees, situated so far from canals as to be out of the reach of infiltration from them, are of much slower growth, under circumstances otherwise equally favorable. In other experiments of Chevandier, under better conditions, the yield of wood was increased, by judicious irrigation, in the ratio of seven to one, the profits in that of twelve to one. At the Exposition of 1855, Chambrelent exhibited young trees, which, in four years from the seed, had grown to the height of sixteen and twenty feet, and the circumference of ten and twelve inches. Chevandier experimented with various manures, and found that some of them might be profitably applied to young but not to old trees, the quantity required in the latter case being too great. Wood-ashes and the refuse of soda factories are particularly recommended. See, on the manuring of trees, Chevandier, Recherches sur l'emploi de divers amendements, etc., Paris, 1852, and Koderle, Grundsatze der Kunstlichen Dungung im Forstculturwesen. Wien, 1865.

I have seen an extraordinary growth produced in fir-trees by the application of soapsuds; in a young and sickly cherry-tree, by heaping the chips and dust from a marble-quarry, to the height of two or three feet, over the roots and around the stem; and cases have come to my knowledge where like results followed the planting of vines and trees in holes half filled with fragments of plaster-castings, and mortar from old buildings. Chevandier's experiments in the irrigation of the forest would not have been a "new thing under the sun" to wise King Solomon, for that monarch saya: "I made me pools of water, to water therewith, the wood that bringeth forth trees." Eccles. ii. 6.]

When the forest is approaching maturity, the original processes already described are repeated; and as, in different parts of an extensive forest, they would take place at different times in different zones, it would afford indefinitely an annual crop of small wood, fuel, and timber.

The duties of the forester do not end here, for it sometimes happens that the glades left by felling the older trees are not sufficiently seeded, or that the species, or essences, as the French oddly call them, are not duly proportioned in the new crop. In this case, seed must be artificially sown, or young trees planted in the vacancies. Besides this, all trees, whether grown for fruit, for fuel, or for timber, require more or less training in order to yield the best returns. The experiments of the Vicomte de Courval in sylviculture throw much light on this subject, and show, in a most interesting way, the importance of pruning forest-trees. The principal feature of De Courval's very successful method is a systematical mode of trimming which compels the tree to develop the stem, by reducing the lateral ramification. Beginning with young trees, the buds are rubbed off from the stems, and superfluous lateral shoots are pruned down to the trunk. When large trees are taken in hand, branches which can be spared, and whose removal is necessary to obtain a proper length of stem, are very smoothly cut off quite close to the trunk, and the exposed surface is IMMEDIATELY brushed over with mineral-coal tar. When thus treated, it is said that the healing of the wound is perfect, and without any decay of the tree. Trees trained by De Courval's method, which is now universally approved and much practised in France, rapidly attained a great height. They grow with remarkable straightness of stem and of grain, and their timber commands the highest price. [Footnote: See De Courval, Taille et conduite des Arbres forestieres et autres arbres de grande dimension. Paris, 1861.

The most important part of Viscount de Courval's system will be found in L'Elagage des Arbres, par le Comte A. Des Cars, an admirable little treatise, of which numerous editions, at the price of one franc, have been printed since the first, of 1864, and which ought to be translated and published without delay in the United States.]

A system of plantation, specially though not exclusively suited to very moist soils, recommended by Duhamel a hundred years ago, has been revived in Germany, within about twenty years, with much success. It is called hill-planting, and consists in placing the young tree upright on the greensward with its roots properly spread out, and then covering the roots and supporting the trunk by thick sods cut so as to form a circular hillock around it. [Footnote: See Manteuffel, L'Art de Planter, traduit par Stumper. Paris, 1868.] By this method it is alleged trees can be grown advantageously both in dry ground and on humid soils, where they would not strike root if planted in holes after the usual mauner. If there is any truth in the theory of a desiccating action in evergreen trees, plantations of this sort might have a value as drainers of lands not easily laid dry by other processes. There is much ground on the great prairies of the West, where experiments with this method of planting are strongly to be recommended.

It is common in Europe to permit the removal of the fallen leaves and fragments of bark and branches with which the forest-soil is covered, and sometimes the cutting of the lower twigs of evergreens. The leaves and twigs are principally used as litter for cattle, and finally as manure, the bark and wind-fallen branches as fuel. By long usage, sometimes by express grant, this privilege has become a vested right of the population in the neighborhood of many public and even large private forests; but it is generally regarded as a serious evil. To remove the leaves and fallen twigs is to withdraw much of the pabulum upon which the tree was destined to feed. The small branches and leaves are the parts of the tree which yield the largest proportion of ashes on combustion, and of course they supply a great amount of nutriment for the young shoots. "A cubic foot of twigs," says Vaupell, "yields four times as much ashes as a cubic foot of stem wood. ... For every hundred weight of dried leaves carried off from a beech forest, we sacrifice a hundred and sixty cubic feet of wood. The leaves and the mosses are a substitute, not only for manure, but for ploughing. The carbonic acid given out by decaying leaves, when taken up by water, serves to dissolve the mineral constituents of the soil, and is particularly active in disintegrating feldspar and the clay derived from its decomposition. ... The leaves belong to the soil. Without them it cannot preserve its fertility, and cannot furnish nutriment to the beech. The trees languish, produce seed incapable of germination, and the spontaneous self-sowing, which is an indispensable element in the best systems of sylviculture, fails altogether in the bared and impoverished soil." [Footnote: Vaupell, Bogens Indvandring i de Danske Skove, pp. 29, 46. Vaupell further observes, on the page last quoted: "The removal of leaves is injurious to the forest, not only because it retards the growth of trees, but still more because it disqualifies the soil for the production of particular species. When the beech languishes, and the development of its branches is less vigorous and its crown less spreading, it becomes unable to resist the encroachments of the fir. This latter tree thrives in an inferior soil, and being no longer stifled by the thick foliage of the beech, it spreads gradually through the wood, while the beech retreats before it and finally perishes."

Schleiden confirms the opinion of Vaupell, and adds many important observations on this subject.—Fur Baum und Wald, pp. 64, 65.]

Besides these evils, the removal of the leaves deprives the soil of much of that spongy character which gives it such immense value as a reservoir of moisture and a regulator of the flow of springs; and, finally, it exposes the surface-roots to the drying influence of sun and wind, to accidental mechanical injury from the tread of animals or men, and, in cold climates, to the destructive effects of frost.

Protection against Wild Animals.

It is often necessary to take measures for the protection of young trees against the rabbit, the mole, and other rodent quadrupeds, and of older ones against the damage done by the larvae of insects hatched upon the surface or in the tissues of the bark, or even in the wood itself. The much greater liability of the artificial than of the natural forest to injury from this cause is perhaps the only point in which the superiority of the former to the latter is not as marked as that of any domesticated vegetable to its wild representative. But the better quality of the wood and the much more rapid growth of the trained and regulated forest are abundant compensations for the loss thus occasioned, and the progress of entomological science will, perhaps, suggest new methods of preventing the ravages of insects. Thus far, however, the collection and destruction ofthe eggs, by simple but expensive means, has proved the most effectual remedy. [Footnote: I have remarked elsewhere that most insects which deposit and hatch their eggs in the wood of the natural forest confine themselves to dead trees. Not only is this the fact, but it is also true that many of the borers attack only freshly-cut timber. Their season of labor is a short one, and unless the tree is cut during this period, it is safe from them. In summer you may hear them plying their augers in the wood of a young pine with soft, green bark, as you sit upon its trunk, within a week after it has been felled, but the windfalls of the winter lie uninjured by the worm and even undecayed for centuries. In the pine woods of New England, after the regular lumberman has removed the standing trees, these old trunks are hauled out from the mosses and leaves which half cover them, and often furnish excellent timber. The slow decay of such timber in the woods, it may be remarked, furnishes another proof of the uniformity of temperature and humidity in the forest, for the trunk of a tree lying on grass or ploughland, and of course exposed to all the alternations of climate, hardly resists complete decomposition for a generation. The forests of Europe exhibit similar facts. Wessely, in a description of the primitive wood of Neuwald in Lower Austria, says that the windfalls required from 150 to 200 years for entire decay.—Die Oesterreichischen Alpenlander und ihre Forste, p. 312.

The comparative immunity of the American native forests from attacks by insects is perhaps in some degree due to the fact that the European destructive tribes have not yet found their way across the ocean, and that our native species are less injurious to living trees. On the European lignivorous insects, see Siemoni, Manuale d'Arte Forestale, 2d edizione, pp. 369-379.]

Exclusion of Domestic Quadrupeds.

But probably the most important of all rules for the government of the forest, whether natural or artificial, is that which prescribes the absolute exclusion of all domestic quadrupeds, except swine, from every wood which is not destined to be cleared. No growth of young trees is possible where horned cattle, sheep, or goats, or even horses, are permitted to pasture at any season of the year, though they are doubtless most destructive when trees are in leaf. [Footnote: Although the economy of the forest has received little attention in the United States, no lover of American nature can have failed to observe a marked difference between a native wood from which cattle are excluded and one where they are permitted to browse. A few seasons suffice for the total extirpation of the "underbrush," including the young trees on which alone the reproduction of the forest depends, and all the branches of those of larger growth which hang within reach of the cattle are stripped of their buds and leaves, and soon wither and fall off. These effects are observable at a great distance, and a wood-pasture is recognized, almost as far as it can be seen, by the regularity with which its lower foliage terminates at what Ruskin somewhere calls the "cattle-line." This always runs parallel to the surface of the ground, and is determined by the height to which domestic quadrupeds can reach to feed upon the leaves. In describing a visit to the grand-ducal farm of San Rossore near Pisa, where a large herd of camels is kept, Chateauvieux says: "In passing through a wood of evergreen oaks, I observed that all the twigs and foliage of the trees were clipped up to the height of about twelve feet above the ground, without leaving a single spray below that level. I was informed that the browsing of the camels had trimmed the trees as high as they could reach." F. Lullin De Chateuvieux, Lettres sur l'Italie, p. 118.

Browsing animals, and most of all the goat, are considered by foresters as more injurious to the growth of young trees, and, therefore, to the reproduction of the forest, than almost any other destructive cause. According to Beatson's Saint Helena, introductory chapter, and Darwin's Journal of Researches in Geology and Natural History, pp. 582, 583, it was the goats which destroyed the beautiful forests that, three hundred and fifty years ago, covered a continuous surface of not less than two thousand acres in the interior of the island [of St. Helena], not to mention scattered groups of trees. Darwin observes: "During our stay at Valparaiso, I was most positively assured that sandal-wood formerly grew in abundance on the island of Juan Fernandez, but that this tree had now become entirely extinct there, having been extirpated by the goats which early navigators had introduced. The neighboring islands, to which goats have not been carried, still abound in sandal-wood."

In the winter, the deer tribe, especially the great American moose-deer, subsists much on the buds and young sprouts of trees; yet—though from the destruction of the wolves or from some not easily explained cause, these latter animals have recently multiplied so rapidly in some parts of North America, that, not long since, four hundred of them are said to have been killed, in one season, on a territory in Maine not comprising more than one hundred and fifty square miles—the wild browsing quadrupeds are rarely, if ever, numerous enough in regions uninhabited by man to produce any sensible effect on the condition of the forest. A reason why they are less injurious than the goat to young trees may be that they resort to this nutriment only in the winter, when the grasses and shrubs are leafless or covered with snow, whereas the goat feeds upon buds and young shoots principally in the season of growth. However this may be, the natural law of consumption and supply keeps the forest growth, and the wild animals which live on its products, in such a state of equilibrium as to insure the indefinite continuance of both, and the perpetuity of neither is endangered until man interferes and destroys the balance.

When, however, deer are bred and protected in parks, they multiply like domestic cattle, and become equally injurious to trees. "A few years ago," says Clave, "there were not less than two thousand deer of different ages in the forest of Fontainebleau. For want of grass, they are driven to the trees, and they do not spare them ... It is calculated that the browsing of these animals, and the consequent retardation of the growth of the wood, diminishes the annual product of the forest to the amount of two hundred thousand cubic feet per year, ... and besides this, the trees thus mutilated are soon exhausted and die. The deer attack the pines, too, tearing off the bark in long strips, or rubbing theie heads against them when shedding their horns; and sometimes, in groves of more than a hundred hectares, not one pine is found uninjured by them."—Revue des Deux Mondes, Mai, 1863, p. 157.

Vaupell, though agreeing with other writers as to the injury done to the forest by most domestic animals and by half-tamed deer—which he illustrates in an interesting way in his posthumous work, The Danish Woods—thinks, nonetheless, that at the season when the mast is falling, swine are rather useful than otherwise to forests of beech and oak, by treading into the ground and thus sowing beechnuts and acorns, and by destroying moles and mice.—De Danake Skore, p. 12. Meguschor is of the same opinion, and adds that swine destroy injurious insects and their larvae.—Memoria, etc., p. 233.

Beckstein computes that a park of 2,500 acres, containing 250 acres of marsh, 250 of fields and meadows, and the remaining 2,000 of wood, mny keep 364 deer of different species, 47 wild boars, 200 hares, 100 rabbits, and an indefinite number of pheasants. These animals would require, in winter, 123,000 pounds of hay, and 22,000 pounds of potatoes, besides what they would pick up themselves. The natural forest most thickly peopled with wild animals would not, in temperate climates, contain, upon the average, one-tenth of these numbers to the same extent of surface.]

These animals browse upon the terminal buds and the tender branches, thereby stunting, if they do not kill, the young trees, and depriving them of all beauty and vigor of growth.

Forest Fires.

The difficulty of protecting the woods against accidental or incendiary fires is one of the most discouraging circumstances attending the preservation of natural and the plantation of artificial forests. [Footnote: The disappearance of the forests of ancient Gaul and of mediaeval France has been ascribed by some writers as much to accidental fires as to the felling of the trees. All the treatises on sylviculture are full of narratives of forest fires. The woods of Corsica and Sardinia have suffered incalculable injury from this cause, and notwithstanding the resistance of the cork-tree to injury from common fires, the government forests of this valuable tree in Algeria have been lately often set on fire by the natives and have sustained immense damage. See an article by Ysabeau in the Annales Forestieres, t. iii., p. 439; Della Marmora, Voyage en Sardaigne, 2d edition, t. i., p. 426; Rivista Forestale del Regno d'Italia, October, 1865, p. 474. Five or six years ago I saw in Switzerland a considerable forest, chiefly of young trees, which had recently been burnt over. I was told that the poor of the commune had long enjoyed a customary privilege of carrying off dead wood and windfalls, and that they had set the forest on fire to kill the trees and so increase the supply of their lawful plunder. The customary rights of herdsmen, shepherds, and peasants in European forests are often an insuperable obstacle to the success of attempts to preserve the woods or to improve their condition. See, on this subject, Alfred Maury, Les anciens Forets de la Gaule, chap. xxix.] In the spontaneous wood the spread of fire is somewhat retarded by the general humidity of the soil and of the beds of leaves which cover it. But in long droughts the superficial layer of leaves and the dry fallen branches become as inflammable as tinder, and the fire spreads with fearful rapidity, until its further progress is arrested by want of material, or, more rarely, by heavy rains, sometimes caused, as many meteorologists suppose, by the conflagration itself.

In the artificial forest the annual removal of fallen or half-dried trees and the leaves and other droppings of the wood, though otherwise a very injurious practice, much diminishes the rapid spread of fires; and the absence of combustible underwood and the greater distance between the trees are additional safeguards. But, on the other hand, the comparative dryness of the soil, and of any leaves or twigs which may remain upon it, and the greater facility for the passage of wind-currents through a regularly planted and more open wood, are circumstances unfavorable to the security of the trees against this formidable danger. The natural forest, unless isolated and of small extent, can be protected from fire only by a vigilance too costly to be systematically practised. But the artificial wood may be secured by a network of ditches and of paths or occasional open glades, which both check the running of the fire and furnish the means of approaching and combating it. [Footnote: It is stated that in the pine woods of the Landes of Gascony a fire has never been known to cross a railway-track or a common road. See Des Incendies, etc., dans la Region des Maures in the Revue des Eaux et Forets for February, 1869. Many other important articles on this subject will be found in other numbers of the same very valuable periodical.]

The experience of 1871 ought not to be wholly without value as a lesson. It is not possible to estimate the damage by forest fires in that disastrous year, in what were lately the North-western States, and in Canada, but as the demand for lumber, and consequently, its market price, are rising at a rate higher than the interest on capital, in a geometrical ratio, one may almost say it is probable that ten years hence those fires will be thought to have diminished the national wealth by a larger amount than even the terrible conflagration at Chicago.

There is no good reason why insurance companies should not guarantee the proprietor of a wood as well as the owner of a house against damage by fire. In Europe there is no conceivable liability to pecuniary loss which may not be insured against. The American companies might at first be embarrassed in estimating the risk, but the experience of a few years would suggest safe principles, and all parties would find advantage in this extension of security.

Forest Legislation.

I have alleged sufficient reasons for believing that a desolation, like that which has overwhelmed many once beautiful and fertile regions of Europe, awaits an important part of the territory of the United States, and of other comparatively new countries over which European civilization is now extending its sway, unless prompt measures are taken to check the action of destructive causes already in operation. It is almost in vain to expect that mere restrictive legislation can do anything effectual to arrest the progress of the evil in those countries, except so far as the state is still the proprietor of extensive forests. Woodlands which have passed into private hands will everywhere be managed, in spite of legal restrictions, upon the same economical principles as other possessions, and every proprietor will, as a general rule, fell his woods, unless he believes that it will be for his pecuniary interest to preserve them. Few of the new provinces which the last three centuries have brought under the control of the European race, would tolerate any interference by the law-making power with what they regard as the most sacred of civil rights—the right, namely, of every man to do what he will with his own. In the Old World, even in France, whose people, of all European nations, love best to be governed and are least annoyed by bureaucratic supervision, law has been found impotent to prevent the destruction, or wasteful economy, of private forests; and in many of the mountainous departments of that country, man is at this moment so fast laying waste the face of the earth, that the most serious fears are entertained, not only of the depopulation of those districts, but of enormous mischiefs to the provinces contiguous to them. [Footnote: "The laws against clearing have never been able to prevent these operations when the proprietor found his advantage in them, and the long series of royal ordinances and decrees of parliaments, proclaimed from the days of Charlemagne to our own, with a view of securing forest property against the improvidence of its owners, have served only to show the impotence of legislative action on this subject."—Clave, Etudes sur l'Economie Forestiere, p. 32.

"A proprietor can always contrive to clear his woods, whatever may be done to prevent him; it is a mere question of time, and a few imprudent cuttings, a few abuses of the right of pasturage, suffice to destry a forest in spite of all regulations to the contrary."—Dunoyer, De la Liberte du Travail, ii., p. 452, as quoted by Clave, p. 353.

Both authors agree that the preservation of the forests in France is practicable only by their transfer to the state, which alone can protect them and secure their proper treatment. It is much to be feared that even this measure would be inadequate to preserve the forests of the American Union. There is little respect for public property in America, and the Federal Government, certainly, would not be the proper agent of the nation for this purpose. It proved itself unable to protect the live-oak woods of Florida, which were intended to be preserved for the use of the navy, and it more than once paid contractors a high price for timber stolen from its own forests. The authorities of the individual States might be more efficient.] The only legal provisions from which anything is to be hoped, are such as shall make it a matter of private advantage to the landholder to spare the trees upon his grounds, and promote the growth of the young wood. Much may be done by exempting standing forests from taxation, and by imposing taxes on wood felled for fuel or for timber, something by more stringent provisions against trespasses on forest property, and something by premiums or honorary distinctions for judicious management of the woods; and, in short, in this matter rewards rather than punishments must be the incentives to obedience even to a policy of enlightened self-interest. It might be difficult to induce governments, general or local, to make the necessary appropriations for such purposes, but there can be no doubt that it would be sound economy in the end.

In countries where there exist municipalities endowed with an intelligent public spirit, the purchase and control of forests by such corporations would often prove advantageous; and in some of the provinces of Northern Lombardy, experience has shown that such operations may be conducted with great benefit to all the interests connected with the proper management of the woods. In Switzerland, on the other hand, except in some few cases where woods have been preserved as a defence against avalanches, the forests of the communes have been of little advantage to the public interests, and have very generally gone to decay. [Footnote: A better economy has been of late introduced into the management of the forest in Switzerland. Excellent official reports on the subject have been published and important legal provisions adopted.] The rights of pasturage, everywhere destructive to trees, combined with toleration of trespasses, have so reduced their value, that there is, too often, nothing left that is worth protecting. In the canton of Ticino, the peasants have very frequently voted to sell the town-woods and divide the proceeds among the corporators. The sometimes considerable sums thus received are squandered in wild revelry, and the sacrifice of the forests brings not even a momentary benefit to the proprietors. [Footnote: See in Berlepscu, Die Alpen, chapter Holzschlager und Flosser, a lively account of the sale of a communal wood.]

Fortunately for the immense economical and sanitary interests involved in this branch of rural and industrial husbandry, public opinion in many parts of the United States is thoroughly roused to the importance of the subject. In the Eastern States, plantations of a certain extent have been made, and a wiser system is pursued in the treatment of the remaining native woods. [Footnote: When the census of 1860 was taken, the States of Maine and New York produced and exported lumber in abundance. Neither of them now has timber enough for domestic use, and they are both compelled to draw much of their supply from Canada and the West.] Important experiments have been tried in Massachusetts on the propagation of forest-trees on seashore bluffs exposed to strong winds. This had been generally supposed to be impossible, but the experiments in question afford a gratifying proof that this is an erroneous opinion. Piper gives an interesting account of Mr. Tudor's success in planting trees on the bleak and barren shore of Nahant. "Mr. Tudor," observes he, "has planted more than ten thousand trees at Nahaut, and, by the results of his experiments, has fully demonstrated that trees, properly cared for in the beginning, may be made to grow up to the very bounds of the ocean, exposed to the biting of the wind and the spray of the sea. The only shelter they require is, at first, some interruption to break the current of the wind, such as fences, houses, or other trees." [Footnote: Trees of America, p. 10.]

Young trees protected against the wind by a fence will somewhat overtop their shelter, and every tree will serve as a screen to a taller one behind it. Extensive groves have thus been formed in situations where an isolated tree would not grow at all.

The people of the Far West have thrown themselves into the work, we cannot say of restoration, but rather of creation, of woodland, with much of the passionate energy which marks their action in reference to other modes of physical improvement. California has appointed a State forester with a liberal salary, and made such legal provisions and appropriations as to render the discharge of his duties effectual. The hands that built the Pacific Railroad at the rate of miles in a day are now busy in planting belts of trees to shelter the track from snow- drifts, and to supply, at a future day, timber for ties and fuel for the locomotives. The settlers on the open plains, too, are not less actively engaged in the propagation of the woods, and if we can put faith in the official statistics on the subject, not thousands but millions of trees are annually planted on the prairies.

These experiments are of much scientific as well as economical interest. The prairies have never been wooded, so far as we know their history, and it has been contended that successful sylviculture would be impracticable in those regions from the want of rain. But we are acquainted with no soil and climate which favor the production of herbage and forbid the rearing of trees, and, as Bryant well observes, "it seems certain that where grass will grow trees may be made to grow also." [Footnote: The origin of our Western treeless prairies and plains, as of the Russian steppes, which much resemble them, is obscure, but the want of forests upon them, seems to be due to climatic conditions and especially to a want of spring and summer rains, which prevents the spontaneous formation of forests upon them, though not necessarily the growth of trees artificially planted and cared for. Climatic conditions more or less resembling those of our Western territories produce analogous effects in India. Much valuable information on the relations between climate and forest vegetation will be found in an article by Dr. Brandis, On the Distribution of Forests in India, in Ocean Highways for October, 1872.

In the more eastwardly prairie region fires have done much to prevent the spread of the native groves, and throughout the whole woodless plains the pastorage of the buffalo alone would suffice to prevent a forest growth. The prairies were the proper feeding-grounds of the bison, and the vast number of those animals is connected, as cause or consequence, with the existence of these vast pastures. The bison, indeed, could not convert the forest into a pasture, but he would do much to prevent the pasture from becoming a forest.

There is positive evidence that some of the American tribes possessed large herds of domesticated bisons. See Humboldt, Ansichten der Natur, i., pp. 71-73. What authorizes us to affirm that this was simply the wild bison reclaimed, and why may we not, with equal probability, believe that the migratory prairie-buffalo is the progeny of the domestic animal run wild?

There are, both on the prairies, as in Wisconsin, and in deep forests, as in Ohio, extensive remains of a primitive people, who must have been more numerous and more advanced in art than the present Indian tribes. There can be no doubt that the woods where such earthworks are found in Ohio were cleared by them, and that the vicinity of these fortresses or temples was inhabited by a large population. Nothing forbids the supposition that the prairies were cleared by the same or a similar people, and that the growth of trees upon them has been prevented by fires and grazing, while the restoration of the woods in Ohio may be due to the abandonment of that region by its original inhabitants. The climatic conditions unfavorable to the spontaneous growth of trees on the prairies may possibly be an effect of too extensive clearings, rather than a cause of the want of woods.

It is disputed whether the steppes of Russia were ever wooded. They were certainly bare of forest growth at a very remote period; for Herodotus describes the country of the Scythians between the Ister and the Tanais as woodless, with the exception of the small province of Xylaea between the Dnieper and the Gulf of Perekop. They are known to have been occupied by a large nomade and pastoral population down to the sixteenth century, though these tribes are now much reduced in numbers. The habits of such races are scarcely less destructive to the forest than those of civilized life. Pastoral tribes do not employ much wood for fuel or for construction, but they carelessly or recklessly burn down the forests, and their cattle effectually check the growth of young trees wherever their range extends.

At present, the furious winds which sweep over the plains, the droughts of summer, and the rights and abuses of pasturage, constitute very formidable obstacles to the employment of measures which have been attended with so valuable results on the sand-wastes of France and Germany. The Russian Government has, however, attempted the wooding of the steppes, and there are thriving plantations in the neighborhood of Odessa, where the soil is of a particularly loose and sandy character. The tree best suited to this locality, and, as there is good reason to suppose, to sand plains in general, is the Ailanthus glandulosa, or Japan varnish-tree. The remarkable success which has crowned the experiments with the ailanthus at Odessa, will, no doubt, stimulate to similar trials elsewhere, and it seems not improbable that the arundo and the maritime pine, which have fixed so many thousand acres of drifting sands in Western Europe, will be, partially at leaat, superseded by the tamarisk and the varnish-tree.

According to Hohenstein, Der Wald, pp. 228, 229, an extensive plantation of pines—a tree new to Southern Russia—was commenced in 1842, on the barren and sandy banks of the Ingula, near Elisabethgrod, and has met with very flattering success. Other experiments in sylviculture at different points on the steppes promise valuable results.] In any case the question will now be subjected to a practical test, and the plantations are so extensive, and, as is reported, so thrifty in growth, that one generation will suffice to determine with certainty and precision how far climate is affected by clothing with wood a vast territory naturally destitute of that protection.

I have thus far spoken only of the preservation and training of existing woods, not of the planting of new forests, because European experience, to which alone we can appeal, is conversant only with conditions so different from those of our own climate, soil, and arboreal vegetation, that precedents drawn from it cannot be relied upon as entirely safe rules for our guidance in that branch of rural economy. [Footnote: Many valuable suggestions on this subject will be found in Bryant, Forest Trees, chap. vi. et seqq.]

I apprehend that one rule, which is certainly alike applicable to both sides of the Atlantic—that, namely, of the absolute exclusion of domestic quadrupeds from all woods, old or young, not destined for the axe—would be least likely to be observed in our practice. The need of shade for cattle, and our inveterate habits in this respect, are much more serious obstacles to compliance with this precept than any inherent difficulty in the thing itself; for there is no good reason why our cattle may not be kept out of our woods as well as out of our wheatfields. When forest-planting is earnestly and perseveringly practised, means of overcoming this difficulty will be found, and our husbandry will be modified to meet the exigency.

The best general advice that can be offered, in the want of an experimental code, is to make every plantation consist of a great variety of trees, and this not only because nature favors a diversified forest-crop, but because the chances of success among a multitude of species are far greater than if we confine ourselves to one or two.

It will doubtless be found that in our scorching summer, especially on bare plains, shade for young plants is even more necessary than in most parts of Europe, and hence a fair proportion of rapidly growing trees and shrubs, even if themselves of little intrinsic value, ought to be regarded as an indispensable feature in every young plantation. These trees should be of species which bear a full supply of air and light, and therefore, in the order of nature, precede those which are of greater value for the permanent wood; and it would be a prudent measure to seed the ground with a stock of such plants, a year or two before sowing or transplanting the more valuable varieties.

More specific rules than these cannot at present well be given, but very brief experiments, even if not in all respects wisely conducted, will suffice to determine the main question: whether in a given locality this or that particular tree can advantageously be propagated or introduced. The special processes of arboriculture suited to the ends of the planter may be gathered partly from cautious imitation of European practice, and partly from an experience which, though not pronouncing definitively in a single season, will, nevertheless, suggest appropriate methods of planting and training the wood within a period not disproportioned to the importance of the object. [Footnote: For very judicious suggestions on experiments in sylviculture, see the Rev. Frederick Starr's remarkable paper on the American Forests in the Transactions of the Agricultural Society for -.]

The growth of arboreal vegetation is comparatively slow, and we are often told that, though he who buries an acorn may hope to see it shoot up to a miniature resemblance of the majestic tree which shall shade his remote descendants, yet the longest life hardly embraces the seedtime and the harvest of a forest. The planter of a wood, it is said, must be actuated by higher motives than those of an investment, the profits of which consist in direct pecuniary gain to himself or even to his posterity; for if, in rare cases, an artificial forest may, in a generation or two, more than repay its original cost, still, in general, the value of its timber will not return the capital expended and the interest accrued. [Footnote: According to Clave (Etudes, p. 159), the net revenue from the forests of the state in France, making no allowance for interest on the capital represented by the forest, is two dollars per acre. In Saxony it is about the same, though the cost of administration is twice as much as in France; in Wurtemberg it is about a dollar an acre; and in Prussia, where half the income is consumed in the expenses of administration, it sinks to less than half a dollar. This low rate in Prussia and other German states is partly explained by the fact that a considerable proportion of the annual product of the wood is either conceded to persons claiming prescriptive rights, or sold, at a very small price, to the poor. Taking into account the capital invested in forest-land, and adding interest upon it, Pressler calculates that a pine wood, managed with a view to felling it when eighty years old, would yield one-eighth of one per cent. annual profit; a fir wood, at one hundred years, one-sixth of one per cent.; a beech wood, at one hundred and twenty years, one-fourth of one per cent. The same author gives the net income of the New Forest in England, over and above expenses, interest not computed, at twenty-five cents per acre only. In America, where no expense is bestowed upon the woods, the value of the annual growth has generally been estimated much higher. Forest-trees are often planted in Europe for what may be called an early crop. Thus in Germany acorns are sown and the young seedlings cultivated like ordinary field-vegetables, and cut at the age of a very few years for the sake of the bark and young twigs used by tanners. In England, trees are grown at the rate of two thousand to the acre, and cut for props in the mines at the diameter of a few inches. Plantations for hoop-poles, and other special purposes requiring small timber, would, no doubt, often prove high remunerative.] But the modern improved methods of sylviculture show vastly more favorable financial results; and when we consider the immense collateral advantages derived from the presence of the forest, the terrible evils necessarily resulting from its destruction, we cannot but admit that the preservation of existing woods, and the more costly extension and creation of them where they have been unduly reduced or have never existed, are among the plainest dictates of self-interest and most obvious of the duties which this age owes to those that are to come after it.

Financial Results of Forest Plantation.

Upon the whole, I am persuaded that the financial statistics which are found in French and German authors, as the results of European experience in forest economy, present the question under a too unfavorable aspect; and therefore these calculations ought not to discourage landed proprietors from making experiments on this subject. These statistics apply to woods whose present condition is, in an eminent degree, the effect of previous long-continued mismanagement; and there is much reason to believe that in the propitious climate of the United States new plantations, regulated substantially according to the methods of De Courval, Chambrelent, and Chevandier, and accompanied with the introduction of exotic trees, as, for example, the Australian caruarina and eucalyptus [Footnote: Although the eucalyptus thrives admirably in Algeria—where it attains a height of from fifty to sixty feet, and a diameter of fifteen or sixteen inches, in six years from the seed—and in some restricted localities in Southern Europe, it will not bear the winters even of Florence, and consequently cannot be expected to flourish in any part of the United States except the extreme South and California. The writer of a somewhat enthusiastic article on this latter State, in Harper's Monthly for July, 1872, affirms that he saw a eucalyptus "eight years from a small cutting, which was seventy-five feet in height, and two feet and a half in diameter at the base."