this indiscriminate warfare upon the trees would be mitigated. They would realize how the lofty oak, beech, or sycamore would adorn the dwelling which increased wealth might enable them to erect, or spread a blessed guardianship over the crystal stream, where the stranger might drink, and rest, and thank God.
The reverence of our ancestors in England for trees, is well known. It is not uncommon in some of their parks, to observe by a clump of fine trees, a stone monument, recording when, and by whom it was planted; thus coupling the name of the founder with those masses of umbrageous foliage, which deepen as ages pass by.
Sir Walter Scott speaks of the "exquisite delight of planting trees." He goes on to say, that "there is no art, or occupation so full of past, present, and future enjoyment." How great the delight of cutting them down may be, is best known to those who most widely deal in such extermination. Immense numbers must be needed for the wants of our increasing country; and no blame should be uttered, except for their careless and wanton destruction. Still, it seems an indulgence to quote further on this subject from the philanthropist before named, who so loved to adorn the face of nature.
"I look back," he says, "to the time when on this part of my grounds, there was not a single tree. Now I look around and see thousands of trees growing up, all of which have received my personal attention. I