distance than 20 feet apart, and larch 15 feet. This shews very little
consideration: the distance apart necessary for these kinds of timber,
and of all other kinds, must be relative to the soil, situation and
climate, and the intentions of the owner, whether he means to bring
them soon to {152} market, or carry them forward to great timber.
When fir trees are intended to be early cut down, or when disease in
larch from unfitness of soil may be apprehended, as it is thence of
small consequence though their future ability to become great timber
be destroyed by closeness, the plants should be retained pretty near
each other from the first, that the timber may be tall, straight, and
clean. On the other hand, when the soil is suitable and great timber
intended, early attention to thinning and great openness from the
first is absolutely necessary, as they (the firs), different from
other trees, can never repair the loss of their lower branches by
throwing out new ones from the naked stem; and double the distance
stated by Mr Monteath at least for larch, which, instead of less, needs
more space than Scots fir, will be required. We believe the decay of
Scots fir, occurring so generally at about 40 years of age, although
also dependent on inferior variety and kiln-drying of cones, arises
principally from want of timely thinning; that is, that the infirm
variety of Scots fir in common use, when supported by numerous feeders,
and not weakened by being drawn up into a tall slender stem, will often
have hardihood to continue growing, and acquire considerable size in
our cold, wet, moorish tills, or even in our moorish {153} sandy
flats. Many casualties will, however, occur among resinous trees[37],
especially in unsuitable soil, even when the plants rise from the seed
naturally sown, and have sufficient room for lateral expansion. The
same cause, viz. closeness or want of thinning, induces early maturity,
old age and decay in larch, although it does not seem to have any
influence, either as inducement to, or prevention of, the rot. We have
heard men,—even men reasonable on other subjects—speak of allowing a
pine wood to thin itself: as well might a farmer speak of allowing his
turnip field to thin itself. When woods are planted of various kinds
of timber, the stronger, larger growing kinds will sometimes acquire
room by overwhelming the smaller: but when the forest is of one kind
of tree, and too close, all suffer nearly alike, and follow each other
fast in decay, as their various strength of constitution gives way;
unless, from some negligence or defect in planting, a portion of the
plants have come away quickly, and the others hung back sickly for
several years, so that {154} the former might master the latter:
or when some strong growing variety overtops its congeners. In the
natural forest of America, when a clearance by any means is effected,
the young seedlings, generally all of one kind, spring up so numerous,
that, choaking each other, they all die together in a few years. This
close springing up and dying is sometimes repeated several times over;
different kinds of trees rising in succession, till the seeds in the
soil be so reduced as to throw up plants so far asunder as to afford
better opportunity for the larger growing varieties to develope their
strength; and, overpowering the less, thus acquire spread of branches
commensurate to the height, and thence strength of constitution
sufficient to bear them forward to large trees.
Mr Monteath, apparently to encourage the destruction of young oak, and
keep his merciless hatchet agoing, asserts that “oak trees, at the age
of 24 or not exceeding 30 years, have as thick a rind or fleshy part
of bark, as when they arrive at 50.” If by this he means to say, that
the useful part of the oak bark of the stem of a tree at 50 years old
is no thicker than that of one of 30, we say he is wrong, widely wrong.
A thriving oak tree of 100 years will still continue to increase the
thickness of the valuable part of the bark on the stem, although part
of the {155} outer layers or cuticle may lose vitality, and become
_corky_. We have taken down a luxuriant growing oak, exceeding three
feet in diameter, the living bark of whose stem was about two inches
in thickness, resembling thick plank, and which was considered by the
tanners much stronger in quality than bark of younger growth. Has Mr
Monteath seen any bark resembling this on 24 years old sproutings? If,
by the above quotation, our author means to say, that the valuable
part of the bark on the branches of a tree 30 years old, is equal in
thickness to that on the same sized branches of a tree at 50, we say he
errs still; that is, provided the older tree be in a healthy thriving
condition, and growing equally open and exposed as the younger. Trees,
as they increase in years, increase also in the thickness of the living
bark, from the root upwards to the smallest twig, provided they have
not begun to get dry and sickly from over maturity. When this period
arrives, the living part of the bark upon the stem and larger branches
becomes very thin, with a great proportion of dead corky substance;
although, on the twigs and smaller branches, it still continues to
thicken. The age at which the external part of the bark begins to lose
vitality, is considerably dependant upon luxuriance of growth, climate,
and exposure; and the {156} period when this loss proceeds faster than
the annual increase within, is altogether dependent on the vigour of
the tree, not on the age, and never takes place till the timber is ripe
for the dock-yard.
We would warn the readers of Mr Monteath’s volume, that his
calculations and statements regarding the worth of coppice and timber
generally, seem more suited to flatter the owner’s wishes than to be
useful to him as a merchant; or to be adjusted to the value of money
during the late war—not to the present value. We also do not very well
comprehend his re-establishment or resuscitation of life in dead trees.
We observe several other slight errors, such as the duration of his
paling,—and the affirmation that the sap-wood will not extend so as to
cover over the section of a pruned branch which contains any red or
matured wood. Most readers will be able to detect such errors as these.
In taking leave of Mr Monteath’s volume, we would offer our
acknowledgment for the attention he has bestowed on the subject of the
seasoning of timber, by steaming with extract of wood (pyroligneous
acid) and by scorching, as prevention of dry rot. The greatest
objection we see to his plan is, that all timber dried quickly is
liable to crack and split, and loses a considerable portion of its
{157} toughness and elasticity; at least, timber when dried slowly is
harder and stronger than when dried quickly, the dryness in both cases
being carried to the same extent. The comparative strength of timber
scorched and timber not scorched, after both are soaked in water, as
in the lower timbers and plank of vessels, should be subjected to
experiment.
Our author’s directions (although the practice is also not new) to
season larch by peeling off the bark one or more years previous to
cutting, in order to prevent it from warping or twisting in framed
housework; and his hints recommending stripping off the bark from
most kinds of timber a season previous to cutting, are also deserving
of notice. We greatly wonder that something efficacious has not been
done in regard to dry rot by our Navy Board, and consider the subject
of such importance, that we think a rot-prevention officer or wood
physician should be appointed to each war vessel from the time her
first timber is laid down, to be made in some shape accountable if
rot to any extent should ever occur; and that this officer should be
regularly bred to his profession at an institution established for the
study of this branch of science at the King’s largest building yard.
Perhaps it might be as well to endow several professors’ chairs at the
universities to follow {158} out and lecture on this science, as being
of far more importance than many which are already endowed. We think
that steeping in fresh water pits for several years, till a kind of
acetous fermentation take place in the timber, or till it become of a
blue colour; or in tan-pits; or for a shorter period in strong brine
pits; or even salting the timber like herrings, after it is blocked
out; or forcing pyroligneous acid, or composition of chlorine, or
other solution, antiseptic or obnoxious to life, into the pores of the
timber when dry, by pressure; or perhaps by charring the timbers after
they are cleaned down on the stocks ready for the plank, by playing on
them a jet of flame from a flexible gas pipe,—might, some of them, be
found preventive of the rot, and at same time not to impair any of the
valuable qualities of the timber.
We are a little shy in committing ourselves, lest we should be
impressed as a dry-rot physician or professor; but if the following
plan for preservation of vessels when unemployed has not already been
tried, we recommend it to the notice of our Navy Board.
Let every part of the vessel be cleared out, and every port-hole or
external opening be made as air-tight as possible.
Let a quantity of recent-burned limestone {159} (lime-shells) be
spread thin over every inside deck or floor, and over the whole bottom
and sides of the vessel, and every door or hatch in the main-deck be
immediately closed down air-tight. A number of rods or shreds of timber
would require to be nailed slightly to the inside skin of the ship
where the slope is considerable, in order that the lime-shells may rest
and not roll down.
As soon as it is found that the lime-shells are completely
slaked—become hydrate of lime—let it be sold to the farmer or
house-builder, or be used in any government erection going forward at
the time; and let another quantity be laid in. We would consider a
sloop of 80 tons load of lime, value, prime cost and freight, about
L.70, would suffice for covering the internal surface of a seventy-four
gun ship. When slaked to powder, the lime might be disposed of at
little loss. It is impossible, without trial, to say how often the
lime would require renewal, but we think twice or thrice a-year would
suffice to preserve the vessel dry and free of any corruption; perhaps
even once might be found effectual. Suppose that the lime was renewed
every four months, and that when slaked it only sold at two-thirds of
the whole cost, the preservation of a line-of-battle ship would be
nearly as follows. The price of the lime {160} and work is correct,
according to the rates in most of the harbours of Scotland.
A quantity of rods or shreds of timber, about three inches
in diameter, for nailing on the sloping sides of the vessel,
material and labour, L.20 0 0
Eighty tons lime-shells = 560 bolls, at 1s. 7d.
per boll, prime cost, 44 6 8
Freight of 560 bolls, at 1s. 28 0 0
The slaked lime is supposed to sell at 2-3ds
of the cost, thence the whole loss on a year
would equal the value of one cargo.
Carrying three lime cargoes of shells aboard,
and spreading them, 30 0 0
We allow here for the greater distance of
carriage, and spreading out of the cargo,
nearly thrice the sum requisite to remove
lime-shells from a vessel into a cart.
Removing the slaked lime of three cargoes, 30 0 0
―――――――――――
Cost first year, L.152 6 8
Deduct rods, 20 0 0
―――――――――――
Cost, second, and each following year, L.132 6 8
The complete efficacy of lime-shells in preventing dry-rot is already
proved—the coasting small craft frequently employed in the carriage
of lime-shells not being liable to it. All that requires to be
ascertained, is the minimum quantity which will effect it; and if
the expense of this quantity will greatly exceed the average loss by
dry-rot in our unemployed {161} shipping. If the quantity necessary be
not greater than what we have supposed—even Mr Hume himself would not
consider the expense extravagant—the preservation of a line-of-battle
ship not exceeding that of one of our numerous army _captains_ while
lying _in ordinary_.
Lime is preventive of dry-rot in several ways,—when uncombined as an
antiseptic, simply by drying, from its attraction for water; by its
causticity, which remains for a number of months after it is slaked,
destroying organic life; and by its absorbing putrescent gases. It is
not easy, without trial, to form a correct estimate of the quantity of
moisture which would enter through the inside planking of a man-of-war;
but were the bottom of the vessel in good condition, the pumps attended
to, and external air excluded, we should consider that the moisture
would not greatly exceed 60 tons of water yearly, which would nearly
be required to convert 240 tons of lime-shells into dry hydrate of
lime. No very great injury or inconvenience would be produced by the
opening of the seams of the ceiling (the inside skin), or of the inner
decks or floors, or by the warping of the plank, resulting from the
contraction of the timber by the dryness; but the caulking of the main
deck would require to be looked to. {162} No danger from fire need be
apprehended, from the sudden slaking of a thin layer of shells, even
though a leak in the main deck should occur. The thickness beyond which
shells could not be suddenly slaked upon dry boards without danger of
fire, might be tried.
It is necessary to mention, that, though lime-shells, or dry hydrate of
lime, when timber is so dry as to be liable to corruption by insects
or by dry rot, is, by destroying life and increasing the dryness,
preventive of this corruption; yet lime, in contact with timber for
a considerable time in very moist air, from its great attraction to
water, draws so much moisture from the air as to become wet mortar or
pulp, which, moistening the timber, promotes its decay by the moist
rot.
{163} II.—NICOL’S PLANTER’S CALENDAR.
This volume, which ought to have been named Sang’s Nurseryman’s
Calendar, is a work of very considerable merit and usefulness, where
the craft of the common nurseryman is plainly and judiciously taught.
The editor, Mr Sang, admits that he was very little indebted to the
notes of his friend (the late Mr Nicol) for the matter of the volume;
and the work itself bears evidence of this, being principally devoted
to the operations of the nursery, the sowing and planting of hard-wood
trees, which are described with a judgment and accuracy attainable
only by long experience in that line, to which we understand Mr Sang
belongs. Every person engaged with the sowing, planting, or rearing of
timber, if he be not too wise or too old to learn, should forthwith
procure this volume.
Mr Sang recommends sowing of forests in preference to planting, which
many before him have done, we believe, more from conjecture that
nature’s own process must be superior to any method of art, than from
any experience of the fact or accurate {164} knowledge of—at least
without giving sufficient explanation of, any cause rendering the
tree of more puny growth in consequence of being transplanted. In
the case of simple herbaceous vegetables, we find, on the contrary,
that transplanting increases the size, protracts the period of full
development, and retards the decay, the individual suffering no lasting
injury from root fracture, or that injury being more than compensated
by change to a new and more recently wrought soil; or even the root
fracture, instead of being of prejudice to the growth, by throwing the
energy of the plant in this direction to repair the injury, not only
may do so, but delaying the superior process towards reproduction[38],
may also give a {165} new vigour to the soft fibrous rootlets,
and greater extension than they otherwise would have attained.
But in regard to some kinds of compound plants of perennial stem,
transplanting, especially when the plant has attained some size, by
fracture, throws the main wide diverging roots into numerous rootlets
and slender matted fibres, none of which has individual strength to
extend as a leader far beyond the shade of the spreading top, thence
forage in a drier, more exhausted soil, and, from consequent want of
supply of moisture, the sap of the tree stagnates into flower, or
merely leaf-buds, instead of flowing out into new wood. The fibrous
softer rooting vegetables sustain no lasting injury from root-fracture
and transplanting; but the harder, more woody, larger growing roots,
losing their leader, never entirely recover their original power of
extention. Yet we think that one or two year old plants, taken from
the seed-bed, would suffer little or no injury from removal, as the
_tap-root_, which is ultimately of no consequence, never constituting
a leader, but eventually {166} disappearing, is the only part which
suffers fracture in the woody state; and the side shoots, which become
the grand root leaders, are in the fibrous state, which easily repairs
small injury. These observations refer only to certain kinds of timber
trees. The willows, poplars, and lindens, succeed better when their
roots are cropped in near the bulb when removed. We planted a piece of
trenched ground, partly with poplar plants, with good roots, from a
nursery, and partly with poplar loppings, about the same size as the
plants, stuck into the ground: the loppings grew more luxuriantly than
the nursery plants. The same occurs with willows—with this difference,
that willow-loppings do better with the top entirely cropped, without
any twigs or external buds; the poplar only pruned a little, with
a terminal bud left on every twig, especially on the top shoot.
The superiority of the growth of those without roots, results from
their having fewer buds and twigs to exhaust the juices before the
formation of new fibrils to draw from the ground, these few buds thence
continuing to push more strongly, and from the roots growing more
vigorously when sprung anew, than when they are a continuation of the
wounded deranged old ones.
New rootlets spring out much sooner and more {167} boldly from the
thick vigorous green stem bark, than from the delicate tender root
bark, and also more vigorously from the bark of the bulb than from
the bark of the remote roots, of those soft-wooded trees; indeed, it
appears to be owing alone to the great strength of the vitality of the
bark of the stem, that those kinds are so capable of continuation by
cuttings. The roots have nearly the same delicacy of those of other
kinds of trees, and show no particular readiness to throw up sprouts
when bared.
Mr Sang, in furtherance of his advocated scheme of raising forests
_in situ_ from the seed, sensible of the general impracticability of
fallowing or working the ground all over previous to sowing, gives
directions for pitting or stirring the earth the previous spring and
summer, in spots about fourteen inches square, and from six to nine
feet separate, burying the turf under the soil, in order that it may be
rotted, and a fine friable mould obtained for reception of the seeds to
be sown the following spring; several seeds are then deposited in each
spot, equidistant; these require to be hand-weeded the first season,
and the resulting plants hoed around for several successive years, till
they have mastered the weeds, after which they are all plucked out but
one (the most promising) in each spot. This is all very well, {168} if
we could have patience and assiduity to proceed thus systematically;
and if the mice, birds, and other enemies, would “let them be;” but
although this plan, when a braird is obtained, and the tufts cleaned,
and seasonably thinned, is probably the best, yet landlords, in general
incapable of exertion, but under the excitement of a fresh thought, are
so infirm of purpose; tenure of life and property are so precarious;
and trusted servants, especially when the procedure has originated
with another, are so liable to be negligent, that our amateurs ought
to gratify their passion for improvement while it lasts, and proceed
at once by purchase of plants, and pitting or slitting, which procures
them a forest immediately palpable to view. There is no doubt, however,
that wooing the soil to kindliness, rearing the infant plant from the
germ, and superintending _a principio_ the entire beautiful process of
vegetable development, will afford a deeper charm to a patient lover
of nature; and that the continued solicitude and attentions required
during this process acting upon man’s parental instinct, will excite an
interest hardly to be felt towards a child of adoption.
A nursery gives such facility to the rearing of the plants, that,
taking into account the greater chance of failure by sowing _in situ_
than by planting, the {169} latter practice will be executed for one
half the expense of the former. Supposing that the progress, after
twenty years’ occupancy of the ground, be equal in both cases,—at
which period, however, we think the transplanted would still have
the advantage,—it would require a considerable ultimate superior
progress in those sown, to outbalance the accumulating value of the
extra expense. It is probable a combination of both practices might be
advantageously followed—sowing the soils and situations most suitable,
and transplanting the thinnings of these into the more exposed
unpropitious places[39]. The matter, however, must, after all, be left
to the test of experiment in a variety of soils and situations.
This volume, being principally a monthly detail of a nursery practice,
which has supported the test of competition, has, on this account, a
very different credit and value from much that has been published of
landlords’ practice, theorists’ conjectures, or adventurers’ quackery.
The burthen of our author’s song, which, from the nature of the work,
falls to be repeated at several of the calendary periods, and which
perhaps cannot be too often repeated, is nearly as follows.
Procure good seed of the best varieties from large healthy trees,
and preserve these in husk in dry {170} well-aired places till
sowing; with the exception of ash keys, haws, holly-berries, roans,
and yew-berries, which require to be put in the rot-heap as soon as
gathered. The rot-heap consists of seed mixed with sandy earth formed
into a layer not exceeding ten inches in thickness; this is turned
several times before midwinter, when it is covered with a layer of
earth about seven inches deep, to exclude the frost. After remaining
in this heap one year—till September, or the following February, these
seeds are sown out.
Sow seeds of trees during the last half of February, March, or April,
on beds of high manured easy soil, in very fine tilth, and clear of
weeds, such as follows hoed green crop, in distance and depth in
proportion to the size of the seed, or rather of the annual stem or
braird. To deposit the seed at an equable depth, the upper friable
mould is pushed (cuffed) off the bed to the interstices between by
the reversed head of a rake, as deep as necessary; the seed is then
deposited by the hand, and rolled over by a very light roller to fix
it, that it may not suffer derangement by the return of the earth which
is then evenly _cuffed_ back from the sides, and no harrowing or raking
given.
Watch most narrowly, and ward off or destroy all {171} kinds of
vermin, mice, snails, birds, till the time when the rising braird has
disencumbered itself of the husk of the seed thrown up by the ascending
stem, and nip out every weed as soon as discernible by the naked eye.
In order to diminish the toil of watching, the different kinds should
be sown as near the same time as their nature renders prudent, and the
seed-beds be situated as near each other as circumstances will admit.
At the end of the first or second season, according to size and
closeness of plants, remove the seedlings from the bed to nursery rows,
at any time when the leaf is off, and the ground sufficiently dry
not to poach; before April for deciduous trees, and during April for
evergreens, placing them in rather open order, either by dibbling or
laying, according to the nature of the root, firming the plants well in
the ground; in case of dibbling, taking good heed to leave no vacuum of
hole under the root, and to work the tool so as to compress the earth
more below than above.
Keep the soil loose and friable on the surface, and clear of weeds
between the transplanted rows by repeated seasonable hoeings, and let
the plants rise with a single leader.
After the plants have stood one or two years in {172} the nursery-row,
remove them to their ultimate destination with as little fracture or
exposure of root as possible,—the larger rooted by pitting, and the
smaller by slitting, or as the nature of the soil may require; paying
most particular attention to plant the dry ground early after the leaf
has dropped, and the moister and more adhesive soils in succession, as
they become so dry in spring as not to adhere to the tools in working,
or poach in treading the plant firm in; removing the evergreens
earlier, or later, in April, according to the dryness or moistness of
the ground; dipping the roots in a clay-puddle, and endeavouring to
seize the opportunity of planting before a shower, should the spring be
far advanced and dry, especially in the more arid situations.
Stout healthy seedlings, one or two years old, may be at once removed
from the seed-bed to their place in the forest, and will often succeed
as well as when nursed in rows, as above.———We have preferred the
pick of the seedlings to the common run of the transplanted, as being
probably stronger growing varieties.
In cases where it is practicable, work over the new plantations for
several years with crops of potatoes, turnips, lettuce, &c., manuring
the ground, if {173} possible; and then sow out with perennial
rye-grass and white clover, if the trees are not become a close cover,
making economical use of the grass as early in the season as it can be
mowed with a short scythe.
For seeds that require to lie a season in the rot-heap, such as ash
keys, haws, &c. September-sowing is preferable to deferring it to the
following spring, as they are liable to chip in the heap. If not sown
in September, they must be got in as soon in February as possible.
Acorns, Spanish and Horse Chestnuts, are best sown when they drop from
the tree; but when the seed is not procured till spring, the sowing
ought not to be deferred beyond February and March. The best soil is a
deep rich loam.
Elm-seed may be sown in June, when it is new from the tree, or
carefully dried and kept over season till next spring; one-half may
then be sown in March, and the other in April, as the March-sown is
sometimes injured by late frosts. The utmost care is required to
prevent this seed from heating when newly gathered.
Beech braird is also liable to be cut off by spring frost; the seed
should therefore be sown partly in March and partly in April, to
diminish the chance {174} of entire failure. The soil requires to be
rich, and is benefited by a dressing of well-made manure previous to
sowing.
Sycamore Plane braird also suffers by late frost, and for greater
security ought also to be sown partly in March and partly in April.
Planes require dry, poor, rather exposed sandy soil, for seed-bed; as,
in rich damp soil, the top of the annual shoot does not ripen: the seed
ought to be thinly sown.
Birch and Alder seeds require to be sown in March, or beginning of
April, on very fine, rich, easy mould, giving them very slight cover,
especially the birch.
The Coniferæ, Scots Fir, Spruce, Silver Fir, &c. should be sown in
April, on very rich easy soil. The greatest care is required to deposit
these different seeds at proper regular depth, from an inch to the
fourth of an inch, in proportion to the size of the seed.
Larch should also be sown in April; it succeeds best on the clean
mellow ground which has produced a crop of seedling Scots fir. It is
worthy of remark, that the larch seedlings and row-plants are liable to
die under a putrescent disease, when much recent manure is employed.—We
remark this accordance with its tendency to putrid disease in after
life. {175}
Acorns, Chestnuts, and other large seeds, may be economically sown
in drill: where the soil contains much annual weed seed, this admits
of expeditious cleaning by the hoe. Ground which has borne a crop of
potatoes the preceding season, is unfit for seed-beds, as the tubers
and seed of the potato give much trouble.
These are the chief of Mr Sang’s directions on raising timber-plants.
With the exception of kiln-drying of cones, and being rather too
prodigal of manure to the seed-beds (perhaps necessary in a sale
nursery), we see nothing in the volume to censure.—A premium should be
offered for a convenient plan of distributing fir-seed suitably in the
seed-bed, without the aid of artificial drying.
It is perhaps unnecessary to state, that, in the culture of trees,
there are thousands of incidental circumstances to which general
directions will not apply, and which demand a discriminating judgment
in the operator: this acts as a school to the mental acumen; and there
is no class of operative men, which has the faculties of attention,
activity, discrimination, and judgment, more developed, than nurserymen
and gardeners,—whose diversified labours, requiring, at the same time,
constant mental and corporeal exertion, keep up a proper balance of the
human powers. {176}
We leave to the judgment of the operator to proportion the thickness
of sowing of the different kinds of seed to the expected size of stem
and leaf, under regulation of soil, season, and quality of seed; and
to determine whether the plants may be continued more than one season
in the seed-bed, or be entirely or partly drawn the first, which
must depend on their luxuriance and closeness; also to notice if all
the seeds have vegetated the first season, or if many of them still
be inert; in the latter case, the seedlings must be picked out; to
facilitate which, the earth may be gently raised by a three-pronged
fork, with as little superficial disturbance as possible.
In nurseries, the great and general error is having the plants too
close together, particularly in the row. Every nursery-row plant should
be of a regular cone figure, with numerous side-branches down near to
the root, and gradually widening in the cone downwards. These would,
indeed, occupy more space of package, and probably not please the
ignorant purchaser, who generally prefers a clean, tall body; but they
would support the hardships of removal to the moor, and be stately
trees; when the comely, straight, slender plants would either have died
altogether, or have become miserable, unsightly skeletons, or stunted
bushes. {177}
In cases where plants are required of considerable size, for hedge-rows
or park-standards, it is matter of doubt, how far frequent removals in
nursery, or cutting of roots, is profitable. This occasions fibrous
matted roots, which tend much to the success of the ultimate removal,
and to the growth of the plant for several years after; but, by
checking the disposition the roots naturally have to extend by several
wide-diverging leaders, probably unfit the plant for becoming a large
tree.
Mr Sang remarks that sycamore planes and birch should not be pruned in
the latter part of the winter, as they bleed greatly at that season: we
have often noticed this as early as midwinter, which also occurs to the
maple tribe. Our author introduces the mountain-ash as a forest tree, a
rank it by no means merits, at least for value as a timber tree. When
exceeding six inches in diameter, it is generally rotted in the heart,
and is only valuable as a copse for affording pliant, tough rods; or
twigs, as a charm or fetiche against witchcraft! It is, however, one of
our most beautiful trees.
Mr Sang gives directions for kiln-drying fir cones previous to
thrashing out, or extracting the seeds. We have before adverted to
this, and would {178} particularly reprehend the practice. It is
difficult to determine how far early fruitfulness and consequent
infirmity of constitution, diminutiveness of size at maturity, and
early decay, may originate from kiln-drying the cones; but, from the
same process of drying in a less degree having been ascertained to
induce early seed-bearing in the case of other seeds, we may infer
almost to certainty, that the coniferæ of this country, not naturally
planted, are very materially injured by this practice.
It is of small consequence, in reference to the tree itself, at what
season deciduous trees are planted, provided they be naked of leaf,
and the ground not too dry, as they are not liable to lose much
by desiccation or evaporation by the bark alone, before the roots
strike anew in spring, and draw freely from the soil; and the skin of
the bulb, although the small rootlets be broken, sucks up moisture
from the damp soil to repair the loss by superior evaporation: but
evergreens—firs, hollies, laurels, yews, sometimes suffer by removal at
a time when the roots do not immediately strike, as in winter, owing
to the torpor from cold. We have often seen their juices exhausted,
and their leaves entirely withered, by a continuation of dry northerly
winds, the manifest cause of which {179} was the great superficial
exposure of the leaves evaporating faster than the fractured torpid
roots afforded supply. Therefore, although winter planting seldom
fails, yet it is perhaps better to seize the exact time in spring,
immediately before the roots commence to strike anew, before there is
any new top-growth, and while the soil and air remain somewhat moist
and cold, that the evaporation may not be too great. In this climate,
April is a good season for removing evergreens to the field, although,
to throw the work from the busy season, it is often practised in the
nursery in September, when their annual growths are completed, and
while there is yet warmth to enable the roots to strike anew; this,
however, is only advisable where the soil for their reception is in
the most favourable state, friable, and inclining to moist, or when
there is great indication of rain, and the air near the dew point. Of
course they require to be planted as soon as extracted. In winter or
spring, when it happens that evergreens must lie in the _shough_, the
most protected situation, where the air is moist and still, ought to
be chosen, and the earth carefully closed to their roots, which is
best done by watering, if rain be not expected; the stems and branches
should also lie as close to the ground as possible. {180}
There is appended to this valuable Planter’s Calendar a treatise on the
Formation and Management of Osier Plantations. As this will not bear
compression well, we refer our reader to the volume itself.
{181} III. BILLINGTON ON PLANTING.
We have perused Billington’s account of the management of the Royal
Forests with much profit; it affords us an excellent series of
experiments, shewing how much conduct and integrity may exist in
Government establishments, even although the strictest watch be _not_
kept over their motions by the nation itself. Words are awanting to
express our admiration of every thing connected with the management of
our misnamed Royal Wastes. We scarcely could have hoped to find such
pervading judgment and skill of calling, as have been displayed by the
Commissioners, and Surveyors General and Particular; but it is true,
the noble salaries attached to these situations must induce men of
the very first ability and knowledge of the subject, to accept of the
office.
Our author, Mr Billington, proceeds with great naiveté to relate how
they sowed and resowed acorns—how they planted and replanted trees,
persevering even to the fifth time, sometimes covering the roots, and
sometimes not, “but all would not avail,” nothing would do; the seeds
did not vegetate, and the {182} plants refused to grow, excepting in
some rare spots, and a few general stragglers. Then how the natural
richness of the soil threw up such a flush of vegetation—of grass,
and herbs, and shrubs, that most of these plants were buried under
this luxuriance; and how the mice and the emmets, and other wayfarers,
hearing, by the _bruit_ of fame, of the wise men who had the governing
of Dean, assembled from the uttermost ends of the island, expecting
a millennium in the forest, and ate up almost every plant which had
survived the smothering. Now, this is well; we rejoice over the natural
justice of the native and legitimate inhabitants of the Royal Domain,
the weeds mastering the invaders the plants, who, year after year, to
the amount of many millions, made hostile entrance into the forest. We
only deplore the cruel doom of the mice, on whose heads a price was
laid, and of the emmets, who, acting as allies of the native powers,
merited a better fate than indiscriminate slaughter.
May we hope that our Government will no longer persist in unprofitable
endeavours to turn cultivator, or to raise its own supply? We laugh at
the Pasha of Egypt becoming cotton-planter and merchant himself, in a
country where the exertions of a man enlightened beyond his subjects,
who has influence {183} to introduce intelligent cultivators,
possessing the knowledge of more favoured nations, may be necessary
to teach and stimulate the ignorant Copt to raise a new production:
And here, where discovery in every branch of knowledge almost exceeds
the progressive—here, where so many public and government _fixtures_
stand out, as if left on purpose to indicate the recent march of
mind, contrasting so strongly with private and individual attainment
in science and art,—with every thing the reverse of what affects the
Egyptian’s conduct; or, at least, with no excuse beyond affording
a cover for a wasteful expenditure of the public money;—will our
Government continue the system, heedless of reason or ridicule? or
will they not at once end these practices, and immediately commence
sales of every acre of ground to which the Crown has claim, excepting
what is necessary for the use of royalty, abolishing Woods and Forest
Generals, Rangers—every one who has taken rank under Jacques’ Greek,
or the devil’s own invocation, and pay off a part of the debt which is
crushing the energies of the first of nations?
Yet it is not of individuals that we complain; perhaps nobody
could have had a stronger _desire_ to do his duty, than the late
Surveyor-General. It is the system that is naught; where, to the lowest
{184} labourer, none have individual interest in the success of their
work; and where the efforts of the really honest, intelligent, and
industrious are, by directions and trammels, rendered unavailing; or
even through misrepresentation by _those_ of a contrary character, (as
would seem in the case of Mr Billington), are the cause of dismissal.
We can only predicate of the future from the past. In spite of all
our Parliamentary acts respecting these forests, and the clamour that
for ages has been made about them, they, with little exception, have
existed only as cover for sinecure expenditure, or for display of tyro
ignorance and incapacity, and subject for pillage, thieving, and frauds
of every description[40]; (_vide_ Parliamentary Reports). We could
easily—by a very simple incantation, requiring a rod neither tipped
with silver nor with gold, but merely a plain cane or sword—bring forth
a sufficient quantity of large growing oaks to meet any emergency.
Our charm would be to give the title of Prince to the Duke who should
possess, and have at the command of Government at a fair price, a
certain {185} number of oaks above a certain size, and a step of
elevation to every titled person, and the title of Baronet to every
private gentleman, who should possess a given number, diminishing the
number requisite to give a step as the title became lower. We should
conceive this law would not render nobility of less estimation. Perhaps
the clause might be added, that one tree raised on waste ground should
count two.
As a treatise on the rearing, or rather prevention of the rearing,
of young planting, Mr Billington’s small volume possesses some real
merit; and simplicity and useful and sagacious remark are so blended
together, as to afford to the reader at once amusement and information.
We are something at a loss to account for this incongruity. Has the
seclusion of a forest life given a cast of the _naturel_ to his mental
product; or has Jaques of Arden really been in Dean with his celebrated
invocation?
Mr Billington’s directions on pruning and training are generally
good; but he distances common sense when on his hobby of shortening
of side branches, in recommending to extend this practice to pines.
His breeding as a gardener, and consequent taste for espalier and
wall-training, where every shoot must be under especial direction, seem
to have {186} unfitted his mind to expand to the comprehension of
nature’s own process of action, and disqualified him from walking hand
in hand with her. We also consider that no good, but rather evil, would
result from continued cutting in, and lopping off the points of the
branches of all kinds of trees, excepting when the plants were stunted,
or much covered with flower-buds. Even a very slight clipping greatly
retards the growth of hedges; and the labour and attention requisite
would be very great: besides, the poor things, the trees, trimmed to
the Billingtonian standard, would, amongst the unrestrained beauties
of the forest, be ready to sink into the earth for very shame of their
_formal deformity_. He errs, too, in recommending not to plant sycamore
plane, as being of little value while young. We have sold young planes,
six or seven inches in diameter, at a higher price per foot than large
oak. They will generally find a good market wherever machinery abounds,
and will probably become every year in greater request.
Mr Billington is particularly solicitous to render his instructions
as plain as possible, in describing the mode of pruning young oaks
in formation of knee timber, as he confesses to bring it down to the
comprehension of gentlemen; but he is not very happy in his figures
of oak trees trained to this use, from {187} want of acquaintance
with the cutting out of naval crooks. He remarks that “larches are
more liable to die in wet ground by their roots being soaked in water
during winter, than oak and some other kinds;” but ground that is at
all pervious to water, ought not to be planted till it be drained in
such a manner that water will soon disappear from shallow holes; and
where, from the plastic closeness of the clay, draining is not quite
effectual, the planting should take place as late in the spring as the
breaking of the buds will permit; and principally by slitting, which,
by not breaking the natural coherence or turfiness of the soil, affords
less opening for water to stagnate around the roots, and does not
occasion the soil to sink down into the mortary consistence consequent
to pitting; there is also less destruction of the vegetables growing
in the soil, hence less putrescent matter to taint the water that may
stagnate round the roots; pure water, or water in motion, not being
detrimental to the roots for a considerable time: also, when the
plants are put in late in spring, there is seldom long stagnation of
water that season, and by next winter the ground has become so firmed
around the roots as to allow very little space for water, and has
also acquired a certain granular arrangement akin to polarization or
crystallization, which {188} allows the water gradually to percolate;
it is also bored by the earth-worm, and other insects, and the plant
itself, after the roots have struck anew and the fractures healed,
possesses a vitality which better enables it to withstand the exclusion
of air from the roots, and chilling by the water the ensuing winter,
and either prevents absorption of the stagnant fluid, or counteracts
its putrid tendency. Planting succeeds best in soil of this description
when the ground has been under grass for some period, at least the
new planted tree, in this case, is less liable to the root-rot; and
trenching or digging previous to planting is of more utility, as the
turfiness prevents the clay from sinking down into impervious mortar,
and allows the water to percolate to the drains.
Mr Billington is very earnest in recommending to drain well at first,
and to keep the drains (open drains) in repair; he also directs, where
the ground is very impervious and wet, to take large square sods, about
18 inches square and 9 inches thick, from the drains while digging in
early winter, and place one of these, the grassy side undermost, in
the site which each plant is to occupy. In the spring, by the time of
planting, the sod has become firmly fixed, and the two swards rotting
afford an excellent nourishment to the plant, which is inserted in
the {189} centre of the sod, with the roots as deep as the original
surface; the drains, being necessarily numerous, afford turf sufficient
for all the plants. This is good. He also gives sensible directions
to beat down, hoe, or cut away all weeds, shrubs, and grass, from the
young plants, and to remove all rough herbage and thickets of shrubs,
that form harbour for the short-tailed mouse, which is exceedingly
destructive, in the case both of planting and sowing; in the former,
by nibbling the bark from the stem, and biting off the twigs of the
young trees, (from which our author may have taken the hint of cutting
in, as mankind took that of pruning from the browsing of the ass), and
gnawing their roots immediately below the surface of the ground; and
in the latter, by devouring the seed in the ground, and cutting down
the seedling annual shoot. He also instructs to keep the tree to one
leader, shortening all straggling large branches; but his assertion,
that plants which had the tops of the straggling branches pinched off
in the first part of summer, grew much larger in consequence, looks
rather absurd; although we have known a part of a hedge, clipped a week
or two after the growth had commenced in spring, grow more luxuriantly
than the part which had been pruned in the same manner before the
growth had {190} commenced. This was owing to the check by the late
clipping, throwing the period of growth into warm moist July; what was
earlier clipped performed its growth in dry June, and was considerably
injured by the manna blight which the latter escaped[41]. The same
cause operates to induce late sown grain and wheat, which has been
thrown late by much injury of spring frost, to acquire a larger, more
luxuriant bulk, than that of earlier growth.
It would appear to us that Mr Billington, from ignorance of the value
of larch, and of the soil proper for maturing it, has done more
injury to the parts of the royal forests where a growth of timber was
obtained, by cutting out the thriving larch, than will be compensated
by his pruning and training of the sickly stunted oak which remained,
as described by him, scarcely visible, when the larches were of size
for country use; but we forget; no blame can attach to him—his orders
were, that every thing should give place to oak. {191}
In parting with our author, it is but just to state, that we consider
many may profit by a perusal of his pages: that notwithstanding the
simplicity to which we have alluded, there is often something sterling
in his remarks and reflections, the result of much experience,
resembling the original freshness of our writers before writing became
so much of a trade. In some places, indeed, his narrative is so
simply, naturally descriptive, and speaks so eloquently, of ignorance
of climate, season, soil, circumstance—of all the unknown dangers and
difficulties incident to _their_ new employment—and of the wonderful
contrivances and inventions hit upon to remedy them—that, when perusing
it, we could scarcely persuade ourselves we were not engaged with
Robinson Crusoe.
{192} IV.—FORSYTH ON FRUIT AND FOREST TREES.
The _surgery of trees_, which this author has the great merit of
almost perfecting, is the only important matter in this volume. His
composition salve, on the merits of which he expatiates so much, and
for the discovery of which he received a premium from the collective
wisdom of the nation assembled in Parliament, is, however, a piece of
mere quackery; and all the virtue of his practice lies in the cutting
out of the dead and diseased parts of the tree, thus effecting for
vegetables by excision, what nature herself performs for animals by
suppuration, exfoliation, and absorption.
Mr Forsyth’s surgery is of slight importance to timber trees in respect
of economy, as with them as with man, it is generally easier to raise
up anew than cure the diseased. Yet it is well that the rationale of
this practice be understood by foresters, more in regard to prevention
than cure; an occasion will however sometimes occur where a tree may
economically be benefited by surgical aid: and in cases where the {193}
Dryades acquire lasting attachment to particular objects, the science
is invaluable, as the object of their love may be thus continued
flourishing to the end of time, or as long as the inamorata chooses to
pay the surgeon.
Mr Forsyth presents us with numerous models of knives, irons, and
gouges, suited to the operation of removing the dead parts of his
patients. Where the gangrene occurs in the outside, he hews and scrapes
away with these till every portion in which the vital principle is
extinct be detached, and the surface all regular and smooth, so
scooped out as to afford no hollow where water may rest. He then
gives a coating of his composition salve to all the space operated
on, wherever the cuticle of the bark has been broken, which prevents
the drought, rain or air, from injuring the bared parts till the bark
spread over it. In cases where the removal of all the dead part at once
would endanger the stability of the tree, he first removes it along
the borders of the decayed part all round, close to the sound bark,
of such a breadth as to give full room for the bark to spread over in
one season, and covers this with his pigment, annually repeating the
cutting out, and painting around the rim or edge of the new-formed
bark, till the whole of the dead part be cleared away. {194} Under
this treatment, the excavation is gradually filled up with the new
wood forming under the spreading bark, and the wound becomes cleanly
cicatrized. Mr Forsyth has effected complete renovation, where the
sound vital part consisted only of a narrow stripe of bark and alburnum
upon one side of the stem, and where two cart loads of the diseased
trunk had been scooped out.
When the heart of the tree is decayed, he makes a section
longitudinally in the side of the tree, as far up and down as the rot
extends, and of sufficient width to admit the working out the diseased
part; and managed as above, the bark and wood gradually extend from
the two sides of the section into the vacuity, and fill it up entirely
with new sound timber. When the tree is of considerable diameter, the
opening formed in the side of the stem must be wide, nearly extending
to half the circumference, otherwise the sides of the section would
meet before the bark extended over all the inside. When the bark from
the two sides approaches to touch in the bottom of the hollow, he pares
off the cuticle from each side where they join, in order that they may
unite thoroughly. Should any of the roots be diseased, he removes the
earth, and pares away the corrupting parts; and if the top be stunted
or {195} sickly, he crops it at the joints where the smaller branches
separate, whence numerous fine strong shoots spring forth, whose new
vigour of vegetation, and absence of drain by seeding for several
years, generally renovate the whole plant, and occasion the filling up
of the wounds (should the trunk be under cure) to proceed rapidly.
Need we mention, that it is only in the cases where the partial death
or decay has resulted from casualty, or something not connected with
the general system of the plant, or with the soil, or other external
circumstances (unless these can be changed), that renovation by
clearing away the decayed or sickly parts is attainable? Where the
plant is sinking from mere old age, a source of decay of which in
some kinds at least we have doubts, or from the soil being improper
or exhausted for the particular kind of plant by long occupancy, or
from any circumstance not admitting of remedy, the attempt to heal up
the wounds caused by cutting out the diseased parts, or to induce new
vigour by cropping the top, must be abortive, or only attended with
partial or temporary success.
Our author, who is a practical man, apparently very little disposed
to throw away time upon inquiring into causes, does not attempt even
to guess at {196} the mode by which his composition performs the
wonders for which he gives it credit. It is impossible, by any salve,
to promote discharge from the bare alburnum, though cut into the
vital part, to form, or assist in the formation, of bark; and the
sum of the resulting advantages consists in preventing the vitality
from becoming extinct far inward from the section (as under the best
management to a certain extent it will become so), by an antiseptic
cover from the drought and moisture, heat and cold; in promoting the
spread of the juices from the edge of the bark over the bared part by
exclusion of drought, and by forming a defence against insects. We
have found a paste of pure clay, wrought up with some fibrous matter,
as chaff or short hay, an excellent cover for tree wounds, applied in
spring or early summer, when dry weather followed the application; but
in autumn or winter, and when moist weather followed, the clay, by
remaining wet, only served to induce corruption. We think this clay
paste (probably benefited by a powdering of charcoal on the inside) the
best application when applied in spring. We have seen a terminal cross
section, of about one inch diameter, of a long branch, covered quite
over in two months with bark when clayed; and a tree of three inches
in diameter, from {197} which a dog had torn off the bark from one
half of the circumference of the stem, entirely renew the lost bark
in one season, when immediately clayed over. Resins, oils, bitumen,
paints and composts without number, have been used with more or less
success, depending upon the period of the year, weather, kind of tree,
individual health, and other circumstances; but these salves should, as
in flesh-wound salves, be considered only as protections, or slightly
auxiliary to the restorative energy of nature, not as cures.
{198} V.—MR WITHERS.
Having by chance glanced over a pamphlet by an Englishman, a Mr
Withers, we find there has been jousting between that gentleman and our
Scottish knights, backed by their squire the Edinburgh Reviewer, in
which the discomfiture of the knights has been wrought by simple hands.
It seems Sir Henry Steuart, forgetful that his own bright fame, which
rivals that of the discoverers of steam-power and gas[42], though of
comparatively quick growth, will endure for ages; and led astray,
probably, by the foolish adage, “soon ripe, soon rotten,” had stated
unqualifiedly, that “fast grown timber will sooner decay, and is of
opener weaker texture than slow grown of the same kind;” and on these
false premises concluded, that all culture or application of manure to
further the growth of timber is improper—winding up with some patriotic
flourish about danger to our war navy, from Mr Withers {199} rendering
the British oak of such exceedingly rapid growth as to be soft and
perishable as mushrooms. Withers completely demolishes his literary
and scientific adversaries, but is, withal, so very imperfectly
acquainted with the subject—himself, and also his junto of experienced
correspondents, that we shall attempt a few lines in elucidation.
* * * * *
We shall first state our facts, accompanied with explanatory remarks.
No. 1. An ash tree of about 18 inches diameter, and 65 years of age.
The first 35 years, the annual growths were of middle size, and the
timber weighty and tough; the following 15 years, very small, light,
porous, and free; the latter 15 of middle size, and of fair quality.
This tree had been growing till about 49 years of age in a grassy
avenue, of dry clay soil, and close by a deep ditch. About sixteen
years back, the ditch had been filled up, and the ground ploughed and
manured regularly till the tree was cut down. After 35 years’ growth,
the scorching roots of the ash had rendered the soil so dry, that the
tree had run entirely to reproduction: _Nearly all the nourishment from
the ground assimilated in the leaves being expended in forming seed, no
extension of the top had taken place, and_ {200} _thence no thickening
of the bole being necessary for support, no wood proper had been
deposited on the trunk save the annual rings of lineal tubes to convey
the sap, which constituted a brittle light wood, of very slight lateral
adhesion_[43]. After the ditch was filled up, and the surrounding
ground ploughed and manured, the increased supply of moisture and
nourishment had induced a considerable new extension of top (which was
quite visible in fine young healthy branches rising from a stunted
base), and consequent necessary thickening of stem by annual layers of
proper dense wood, along with the lineal annual tubes.
No. 2. A beautiful most luxuriant growing oak, in one of the sweetest
sunny spots of the sweetest valley of our Highlands. This tree,
of nearly two hundred solid feet of timber, and 80 years of age,
was growing upon the bare shelf of a sound mica-schist rock. From
underneath this shelf, several feet down in front, a most exuberant
spring welled out, and the roots spread down over {201} the rock to
the mouth of the crystal spring, no doubt tracing inward the course
of the limpid waters into the rocky chambers of the Naiad. We had
much conjecture how this tree came to be growing on the bare shelf,
and finally concluded, that the nymph of the spring, while she sat
there gazing on her beauties, under the varying dimpling reflection
of the living waters, her rosy feet bathed by the glassy flood, had
been surprised by some rude Celt, and to effect escape from his rough
embrace, had been transformed by Diana into a tree. Yet whether of
natural or supernatural origin, it was by the people of the glen held
of miraculous virtue, and the sickly children were brought to be dipped
in the spring after being borne several times round the charm-tree.
When torn from its seat, the tree, though sound, and having a level
fall (we saw it fall), broke across about twenty feet up, where the
stem was about eight feet in circuit; _this was owing to the very
soft tender nature of the wood, which, although consisting of very
large annual growths, was, when sawn out, the most porous insufficient
Scots oak we have ever seen_. As this fact may be ascribed to the
supernatural,—the heart of the nymph beginning to soften towards the
Celt at the time Diana interfered, accounting well for {202} the soft
texture of the heart-wood of the tree, we shall not press it as a proof
on either side of the controversy. Perhaps sober reasoners may think
this all phantasy, and conclude, that the tree, from deficiency of
substantial earthy food, and subsisting principally on _slops_ (being
mainly nourished by drinking of the delicious well), would, like an
animal under similar circumstances, be of soft flabby consistency.
The above fact is opposed to common opinion—a Highlander always
choosing his oaken staff from off a rock, as being most to depend upon;
yet perhaps this preference is owing to some association with the
hardness of the rock itself.
No. 3. We found a sycamore plane (Acer pseudo-platanus) in the same
row with other sycamores, and about the same size, so exceeding hard
that it could scarcely be cut down by mattock and hatchet, whereas
the others adjacent were comparatively of moderate hardness, though
differing considerably in hardness from each other; the soil in this
case was very equable, being of Carse clay. The peculiar hardness of
this tree could only be attributable to a harder variety. Indeed,
the difference of quality in timber depends chiefly on the infinite
varieties existing in what is called Species, though soil and {203}
climate have no doubt considerable influence, both in forming the
variety, and in modifying it while growing. Of varieties, those which
have the thinnest bark, under equal exposure, have the hardest wood.
No. 4. We have cut a number of large old ash trees, and found, with one
or two exceptions, of what is called thunder-struck trees (which we
consider only an obdurate variety), that they were invariably of very
free, weak consistency, more especially the latter formed growths, but
even the earlier growths had become _frush_ from age. This timber soon
went to decay after being cut down:—one piece cut out into planks, and
these being laid down in the order they occupied in the log, was in the
course of some weeks rendered again entire by being agglutinated by
Jew’s ears (a species of fungus.) The workmen were greatly startled at
the fact, thinking the log bewitched. When immediately dissevered by
wedges, the wood was so much decomposed, that its fibre was tenderer
than the Jew’s ears, separating in a new course in most places, in
preference to the saw draught occupied by the ears. We have found very
old oaks have exactly the same friable character, so much so, as render
their safe felling almost impossible; yet this oak timber had not lost
much in weight {204} when compared after being dried with younger oak.
No. 5. We cut a row of ash trees, about 50 years of age, in dry Carse
clay, by the side of a deep ditch, and consequently of slow growth; the
timber was excellent, hard, strong, and weighty, rather most so where
the size was smallest. At one end, where the row approached a brook,
and the soil became richer and moister, several of the trees were of
good size, but rather inferior in quality of timber, excepting one (the
largest, though not the nearest to the brook), which was of very hard,
strong, and reedy fibre, evidently a variety differing much from the
others. It is always easy to discriminate pretty accurately the quality
of the wood, by examination of the saw cross section of the trunk, that
is, provided the same saw be employed, and be kept equally sharp; the
best timber having the glossiest, smoothest section.
No. 6. We have examined Scots fir grown in many different situations;
by far the best quality, of its age, of any we know, stands upon a
very adhesive Carse clay, which, from the proprietor’s neglect, is all
winter and in wet weather soaking with water, and the trees not of very
luxuriant growth. These, till a few years ago, stood in close order,
without the stem being {205} much exposed to parching or evaporation;
this exposure of the stem rendering fir timber much harder and more
resinous. Every body who has touched larch must be convinced that the
slow grown on poor _tills_, especially with long naked stems in exposed
situation, is very much stronger and harder than the quick grown,
though often not so tough: but much depends on the variety in larch,
those having the reddest matured wood being much harder than the paler
coloured.
Memel fir, which is the largest growthed red pine we are acquainted
with, is very strong and durable, probably next to the pitch pine of
North America; yet the very large growthed Memel is generally weakest,
though we frequently find a log of small growthed, mild and inferior in
strength. In old buildings we have often witnessed the beautiful small
growthed red wood pine wormed, when the larger growthed was sound,
but we are sensible that spontaneous decomposition and consumption
by insects are very different; much resin deters insects, whereas,
in moist situations, as in treenails of vessels, it conduces to
spontaneous decay; yet is it preservative when the timber is exposed to
the weather by excluding the rain. {206}
The coniferæ differ much in the internal arrangement of their woody
structure from the hard wood species, having tissue of much larger
cells, and being generally destitute of the large lineal tubes, which
in hard wood constitute the more porous inner part of the annual layer.
When these tubes occur in the pines, they also differ in position,
being in the outer part of the layer. Owing to the resin of the pines
becoming fixed in the cells of the outer part of the annual layers,
inspissated, we think, by the summer’s heat and drought (others say
congealed by the cold), these cells are filled up, and this part of
the growth rendered much denser than the inner part of the layer,
being from solidity semi-transparent. We would attribute the abundance
of resin in the Georgian pitch pine to the heat and long summer of
that country, probably in concert with damp richness of soil, not
only occasioning this deposit under these circumstances, but perhaps
inducing a disposition in this species to the formation of this
product[44]. The absence of the large tubes, {207} and the presence
of oleaginous resin, render pine timber, when old and small growthed,
not so brittle, nor so liable to decay, as that of deciduous trees; but
it becomes very deficient in lateral adhesion. From the same cause we
find the external layers of matured pine timber comparatively superior
to the quality of the inner layers: in hard wood the exterior layers
are generally much inferior to the inner. Boards of sap-wood of fast
grown Scots fir, particularly of the outside layers are much better
suited—stronger and more lasting, for boxes used as carriage packages,
or for machinery or cart lining much exposed to blows and friction;
than boards of the best matured red wood of Memel, Swedish, or Norway
pine. This is principally owing to the fast grown alburnum possessing
much greater lateral adhesion than the matured wood of old pines. To
have these sap-wood boards in greatest perfection, the tree must {208}
not lie in the bark after felling, and the boards must be well dried
soon after being cut out. To expose the tree, peeled, either standing
or felled, to the sun and dry air for some time, will considerably
increase the strength of this alburnum. The wood, while in the state
of sap-wood, of many kinds of timber is as strong and much tougher
than the same wood after being matured, and would be equally valuable
were any process discovered of rendering it equally durable; its
insufficiency often arises from partial decay having occurred while in
the log. The same sap-wood of oak, which, allowed to lie on the grass
after being peeled in spring, will be so much decomposed in autumn that
it may be kicked off with one’s heel; if cut out and dried immediately
on being felled, it will be tougher than the matured, and, kept dry
as cart-spokes, and defended by paint from the worm, will last and
retain its toughness for an age. The tilling up, which to a certain
extent occurs in maturing, is most probably deposited to fill up tubes,
and may thus not greatly strengthen the mass; a hollow cylinder being
stronger than a solid cylinder when extending horizontally over a
considerable stretch, like a joist or beam; the mass may also become
a little more fragile by maturing: besides a filling up is the result
of some chemical change the {209} wood probably becoming slightly
carbonized or approaching to that change which takes place when
vegetables become peat.
It is rather difficult to speak of the strength of timber, as different
kinds of timber, and different parts and qualities of the same kind
of timber, have different kinds of strength. Some kinds are stronger
as beams or joists, other kinds as boarding; while, again, some kinds
are better for enduring a regular pressure, others for supporting a
sudden jerk or blow, either as beams or boards. Some kinds are also
comparatively stronger, moist; others when dry—and some kinds retain
their qualities of strength or toughness longer than others when moist,
and others longer when dry, although no rot appear.
No. 7. Purposely for experiment[45], we selected three ash trees, all
growing in Carse clay, but differing the most in fastness of growth of
any we could discover. We cut these down on the same day; two of them
proved about 36 years planted, and the third 15; this, the youngest
was of fast growth, and had layers of more than double the size of one
of the {210} former, and about six times that of the other. We cut a
number of pieces of exactly equal length and thickness (17 inches long,
and nearly an inch on the side), from each of these, choosing them
of clean straight fibre, at equal distance from the ground, and from
the outside of the tree, and having their growths nearly parallel to
one side, of course free of heart. We proved one of each immediately
on being cut out while full of sap, with their growths on edge in
horizontal position, supported at each end with a weight suspended from
the middle. The smallest growthed, and the largest, weighed at the time
of trial nearly equal; the medium growthed one-thirtieth more. The
smallest growthed supported the weight about six minutes; the medium
and the largest about half that time; the smallest growthed yielded
the least before breaking, and the largest yielded the most. When
completely dried, the weight of the medium growthed still continued
greatest, surpassing the largest one-fourteenth, and the smallest about
one-thirtieth. The smallest and medium supported nearly equal weight,
during equal time, and outbore the largest about one-seventh[46]; when
placed {211} with the growths on edge, they were stronger than when
placed with the growths flat.
After these rather lengthy references to facts, we must allude to a
circumstance which we are astonished has not been attended to by Mr
Withers, and his gentlemen correspondents connected with His Majesty’s
docks,—the not taking into account the place of the tree whence the
portion of wood for experimenting the strength had been taken, and also
how the annual layers stood, whether horizontal or on edge, or around
a centre, when the weight was applied. The experienced and accurately
practical Mr Withers presents two specimens of oak, the one of faster
and the other of slower growth, to Professor Barlow, of Woolwich Royal
Academy, and the strength of these specimens is tested and reported
upon, without once alluding to what we have mentioned above. Now, if
this has not been attended to, the experiment may be considered a test
of something else than of the timber. How much the strength is affected
by the place of the tree, any person may satisfy himself by proving
one piece of timber taken from near the root, another half way up the
tree, and a third near the top: he will find that in a tall tree the
comparative {212} strength will sometimes vary as much as 3, 2, 1;
that is, a beam, say 2 inches square, and 4 feet long, taken from near
the root, when horizontally placed, and resting only at each end, will
support three times as much as a like beam in like position from near
the top of the tree, although both are equally clear of knots or cross
section of grain. This is particularly manifest in large fast-grown
silver fir and old ash, and the difference is always greatest in old
trees. He will also find that the position of the beam, in respect to
the layers being circular round the heart, flat, on edge, or at an
angle, has considerable influence, and, should he inquire farther, will
perhaps notice, that the timber from different sides of the tree is
not always alike strong; that one specimen of timber will be superior
to another, both being moist, and inferior to it when both are dry,
and that also, as in No. 1, the tree at the same height on the same
side, will contain timber differing in strength fully one half, and not
always diminishing in strength from the heart outwards, even in hard
wood. We are well pleased with one gentleman of the Navy Dock-yard, who
naively admits, that he is incompetent to decide on these subjects,
having been altogether devoted to the mathematical, in estimating
the strain and resistance timber suffers under {213} different
combinations. Now we like this division of labour.
But to return to our subject. The facts stated go to prove, that the
quality of timber depends much upon soil, circumstance, and more
especially on variety; and that in the early period of the growth of
trees, before much seeding, and when the soil is not much exhausted of
the particular pabulum necessary for the kind of plant, that rather
slow grown timber is superior in strength to quick grown, especially
when the quickness exceeds a certain degree; when this degree is
exceeded, the timber is not so weighty, and is well known not to be so
durable. However, when timber is required of considerable scantling, it
is only in good soils, where the tree increases moderately fast, that
timber will attain sufficient size for this, at an age young enough
to retain its toughness throughout, or to continue forming firm dense
wood on the exterior. This is particularly so in the case of hard-wood
timber, more especially when oak grows upon a moist soil, where the
matured wood, of brownish-red colour, is often unsound, and where
decay commences at a comparatively early period. In the pine, owing to
the oleaginous undrying nature of the sap (resin), the {214} timber
retains its strength to a great age; and the reedy closeness of slow
growth, for most purposes, outbalances any loss from deficiency of
lateral adhesion.
Moderately fast grown timber is much more requisite for naval purposes
than for other uses; as, besides the greater longitudinal strength
when of large dimension, it has greater adhesion laterally, is far
more pliant, and therefore much better suited for the ribs of vessels,
where cross cutting a portion of the fibre, from the inattention to
training to proper bends, is unavoidable; and whence a disrupting
shock (which is rather to be withstood than fair pressure), makes the
unyielding splintering old wood fly like ice; the rift commencing its
run from the cut fibre. For plank, the lateral adhesion and pliancy
of young moderately fast grown timber is equally valuable, especially
for those which are applied to the curvature of the bow and stern.
Young timber also softens much better by steam, therefore is more
convenient for planking, and for being bent for the compass timbers
of large vessels. The vessel constructed of it will besides, from the
general elasticity of the fibre, be more lively in the water, sail
faster, and, though stronger to resist, will {215} have less strain
to endure[47]. Mr Withers’s corresponding friends, especially those of
his Majesty’s Dock-yards, with the good common sense of practical men,
are well acquainted with all this, although they get a little out of
element when they meddle with nature or causes. Mr Withers is himself
equally out of element when he expatiates on the mighty advantage of
trenching and manuring at planting, and when he talks of our Scottish
holes. The Knight, too, is still more at fault in dreading any great
influence on the quickness of the growth of trees from this gentleman’s
_new inventions_,—and doubly at fault, from conjecturing our navy would
suffer from being constructed of the fastest grown British timber there
is any chance of our shipwrights obtaining. Since we were in our teens,
we have almost every season trenched a portion of ground for planting,
and have manured highly at planting[48], {216} and for several years
afterwards. We have found, when very adhesive subsoil was brought
upward, that the trees throve _well_ while the ground continued under
cultivation; but when the labour ceased, they were soon overtaken by
those planted at the same time without trenching. This comparative
falling off was evidently owing to the surface being rendered more
adhesive by the gluey plastic subsoil being mixed upward with the
original small portion of surface-mould. This new surface melted to a
pulp by the winter rains, when drought set in spring, run together,
became indurated, and parting into divisions, admitted the drought down
to the unstirred ground by numerous deep and wide cracks, which rent
the rootlets of the trees, and rendered it impossible for any plant to
thrive. There are also many kinds of light subsoil, which it would be
folly to bring to the surface, and where little profit would arise from
deep stirring, even though the surface were retained uppermost.
In cases where the plants were very small, we have found deep trenching
of no benefit, but in certain {217} soils rather hurtful, even during
the first years; but with larger plants, such as are often used in
England, it invariably occasioned their roots to strike quickly, by
affording a regular supply of moisture, and from being easily permeated
by the rootlets, expedited the growth, yielding much early luxuriance
when followed by skilful culture, but latterly, seldom to such a degree
as would lead us to suppose much difference would be discernible at 30
years of age, between the trenched and those planted by mere pitting,
slitting, or sowing,—much more depending on proper draining, on young,
thriving, small sturdy plants, of best variety,—on suiting the plant to
the soil and climate, and on timely thinning.
But even were a very superior ultimate progress of growth obtained by
trenching, manuring, and culture of timber, yet as capital and manure
will _probably_ be more advantageously employed in common agriculture,
which gives a comparatively quick return of both, we shall leave to
Mr Withers and his coterie of illuminati the whole advantage of his
discovery. Economic philosophy is the queen of our Scottish plants; she
will not admit any new system of nurture for her subjects without the
{218} strictest scrutiny of its utility as applied to her domains,—she
proceeds thus to weigh Mr Withers’s practice:—
_Extra Cost per Acre._
Twenty loads of putrescent manure, at the average price at
which thousands of tons are annually imported to the valley
of the Tay from _England_, 9s. per load, L. 9 0 0
Carriage expenses of above, at 3s. per load, 3 0 0
Twenty loads calcareous manure, including
carriage (were marl not at hand, lime would
cost thrice as much), 4 0 0
Trenching, 9 0 0
Total first extra cost, L.25 0 0
Accumulation by 28 years’ interest, at 5 per
cent. nearly, L.100 0 0
Would land under timber 28 years planted, with growth accelerated
by Mr Withers’s practice, in two-thirds of the available portion of
Scotland, sell at more than L. 100 per English acre? Suppose that the
thinnings previous to the 28th year would cover the cost of planting,
and subsequent cultivation and attention which is necessary, besides
{219} the cost of the trenching and manuring (in many cases they
would not), the entire value of the land would be lost. It may be said
that the common rules of utility do not apply in this case,—that the
landlords will not be moved to any other improvement than planting,
and that otherwise their income would be dissipated entirely, without
any portion being applied to reproductive uses. We grant all this;
but Scottish landlords have very little taste for the Withers’
system,—to deface their beautiful wastes, by burying all the fine
turf and wildflowers under the red mortar (the common subsoil), or to
scatter manure. Planting by pitting and slitting will prove far more
attractive; besides, the means are entirely awanting to carry on such
expensive proceedings to the necessary extent, and the cultivation of
one acre in this fashion would leave 19 untouched, when the whole 20
might have been wooded, in many cases to equal advantage, by the money
expended on one. We have known planting executed by contract for one
year’s interest of the above stated first extra expenditure, which
we would match against planting raised by Mr Withers’s process, in
the same situation. There is also a very considerable proportion of
Scotland very suitable for {220} timber where the stony nature of the
surface entirely precludes trenching.
Mr Withers, who appears to have no general knowledge of soils and
climates, would hold a different language with regard to Scotland and
Scotsmen, if he saw the beautiful thriving plantations now rising in
that country, planted by mere pitting and slitting, where, owing to
the drought in early summer being less fierce than what occurs in
the central, eastern, and southern counties of England, and to the
herbage being less luxuriant, planting without trenching can always
be depended upon. Mr Withers would also have been sensible had he had
much practice in rural affairs, that twenty loads of putrid manure per
acre at planting, although of very considerable advantage for two or
three seasons to the rising trees, in promoting, along with hoeing and
digging, an early start to luxuriance, would cause little or no lasting
amelioration of the soil; That the vegetable mould naturally occupying
the surface is generally by itself a much better defence against the
summer’s drought, than when incorporated with the subsoil, especially
after cultivation ceases; that lasting fertility of ground for timber,
though sometimes, is often not increased by admixture of soil {221}
and subsoil; and that, generally, the luxuriance of the tree must
ultimately depend on the natural depth and quality of the ground itself.
Mr Withers, with that precise knowledge of the subject, and clear
conception of the nature of things, which generally accompanies
a partial acquaintance with facts, makes a confident and rather
imposing appearance as a wielder of language and a logician. From his
assumed superiority, we especially wonder that he should possibly
have envy of Scotsmen, which, from the tenor of his letter, we are
constrained to believe. Need Caledonia remind her noble sister,
England, of their consanguinity,—that they are sisters whom nature
hath _twinned_ together? Is there another in all the earth, with
quadruple the advantages of Scotland, who can rank with her in science
and literature, arts and arms? And is England not proud of her poorer
sister? Or can they feel aught but mutual love?
* * * * *
Since writing the above, we have looked over some experiments by Messrs
Barlow, Beaufoy, Couch, and others, on the strength of timber. These
show so much discrepancy of result, as leads us to conclude, {222}
that experimenters have not attended sufficiently to the structure and
nature of the timber, the position and quality of the different layers,
&c. Take, for example, the stem of a tall tree, 100 years old: At the
cross section, it is found to consist of a certain number of layers of
matured timber, and of sap timber. These layers having been gradually
formed, the external, after those more internal have partly dried,
and the internal and matured wood being also filled up to more solid
consistency than the external, the stem, on being barked, contracts in
drying much more externally than internally. As soon as the surface
has dried, the outer layers contracting laterally are not sufficient
to surround the undried internal layers, thence split in longitudinal
rifts; and as the drying proceeds inwards, the cracks deepen till they
reach nearly to the heart—these rifts, when the timber is thoroughly
dry, being generally wider in the sap timber than in the matured, more
than in the proportion of the size of the respective circles. This
effect of drying is what every body is acquainted with.
Besides lateral contraction, there is also a disposition to contract
longitudinally by drying, much greater in the external than internal
layers. While the tree is undivided, this greater contraction of the
{223} exterior layers is prevented, by the adhesion to the drier more
filled up central column (which probably had contracted a little during
the formation of the exterior sap-wood layers), the contractile force
of the exterior balancing equally around this central column. Should
this balance be destroyed by the stem being cleft up the middle, the
longitudinal contraction will immediately take place, and the two
halves will bend outward, from the outside layers contracting more than
the inside layers. We have seen an ash tree rend up the middle from the
cross section above the bulb, nearly to the top, on being cut across in
felling, owing to the longitudinal contractile force of the exterior
existing even before drying.
Should the dried stem of a tree, of considerable length, be laid
hollow, supported at each end, the outside layer being stretched
almost to breaking by the longitudinal contraction being greatest
in the outermost part, a very small weight, aided by a slight jerk
or concussion, may be sufficient to burst the outside layer on the
lower side, the outside layers on the upper side not standing out as
a support above, but combining their contractile force with gravity
to rend the lower. As the outer layer gives way, the strain is thrown
concentrated upon the next outermost, which also gives way, and the
beam is broken {224} across in detail. In like manner, when the
direct longitudinal strength is tested, the external circles being
in greater tension than the internal, the tightest parts of the log
will give way in succession, like a rope with strands of different
degrees of tightness; yet the lateral adhesion of the layers will have
considerable effect in strengthening the mass.
The above explains the fallacy of estimating the longitudinal strength
of a thick piece of timber from experiments with small shreds; it
likewise explains how a large unbuilt mast is so easily sprung;
wherefore a beam round as grown will be rendered stronger as a beam by
being formed into a hollow cylinder, by boring out the central part;
and also how a square log will be strengthened as a beam, by cleaving
it up the middle, and placing the two pieces on edge, with their
outside or backs together. In the latter case, the middle, by being
turned outside, and exposed to the air, will contract more than what
it would do shut up and covered by the exterior wood, especially if
resinous pine timber, which continues to contract for many years, owing
to the resin, when exposed to the air, gradually drying or undergoing
some change, by which it is diminished in size, and rendered similar to
amber. {225}
Consideration of the difference of tension of the concentric layers,
from the difference of disposition to contract by drying, modified
by the difference of position in which these layers may stand, when
supporting weights and bearing strain, with the various qualities of
timber of the same kind of tree, from variety, age, soil, climate, or
from being taken from near the outside or heart, or butt or top, will,
we think, account for the contrariety of results which unphilosophical
experiments have afforded.
{226} VI.—STEWARDS PLANTER’S GUIDE, AND SIR WALTER SCOTT’S CRITIQUE.
We have noticed that a sensation has been produced in a certain
quarter, particularly among persons of a certain age, by a publication
of Sir Henry Steuart of Allanton, on removing large trees, eked out by
a very clever article in the London Quarterly, on Landscape Gardening,
ascribed to Sir Walter Scott.
It may seem unnecessary to direct the attention of the public again
either to this volume or its subject, both of which have already
engaged the public attention to a degree greatly beyond their value
and importance; but Sir Henry, with all his foppery and parade of
decorating parks, approaches, and lawns, and all that sort of chateau
millinery, has now and then risen above his subject, and not only given
us several hints useful in rural economy, but has also pretensions to
have brought out some facts hitherto but imperfectly known, and to have
traced them to general principles. {227}
It is curious to remark of how much greater importance the elder part
of society—those upon whom wealth has at length devolved, are generally
held. Any device, however trifling, which can in any way divert the
fancy, pamper the lingering senses, or patch up the body of our second
childhood, is infinitely more useful to the discoverer, and meets with
higher patronage and more eclat, than what is of a thousand times more
consequence to the young. Now, if this were the fruit of filial love,
all would be very well—we would idolize the picture: but when we see
these discoveries only patronized by the old themselves, in the merest
egotism, we blush for our patriarchs, and wonder if time and suffering
will be spent as unprofitably upon ourselves.
We wonder much what fascination can exist to a mind of so much ability
and culture as that of Sir Henry Steuart, in decorating a few dull
unprofitable acres,—causing a few bushes and bush-like trees to change
place from one side of a dull green to the other!—laying digested
plans of action, embracing a great number of years, to accomplish
this very important feat, which most probably the next heir will make
_the business of his life_ to undo, by turning them back to their
old quarters, if he does not, with more wisdom, grub them out {228}
altogether as cumberers of the soil! For ourselves, we would rather
_baa_ with the silly sheep, and nibble the turf, than pass our time in
acting over this most pitiful trifling, or in publishing a memorial
of our shame. We know not how others are affected, but there is no
other place on earth where we have felt such oppression and weariness,
as in the extensive smoothed park and lawns around the country seat.
We sicken under the uniformity of the heavy-looking round-headed
trees,—the dulness of the flat fat pasture, undecorated by a single
weed,—the quiet stupid physiognomy of the cattle,—the officiousness of
the sleek orderly menial. It may be we are very destitute of taste in
this; here every thing is experiencing satiety of sensual enjoyment, is
full to repletion; every thing has been sedulously arranged to please,
and we ought certainly to admire; but we have no sympathy with such a
scene.
The solitariness, the absence of men and of human interest, is not
compensated by any of the wild charms of nature. There is small room
here for the discovery of the _habitat_ and native character of plants,
no chance of meeting with a rare species, every thing is modelled
to art. The land-bailiff is an adept. With his dirty composts and
top-dressings, he smothers the _fog_ and the daisy; the scythe {229}
sweeps down every idle weed, every wild flower which escapes his
large-mouthed oxen. The live smooth bark of the lush fast-growing
trees, affords no footing for the various and beautiful tribes of
mosses and lichens. The fog-bee has lost its dwelling, the humble-bee
its flowers, and they have flown away. Scarce an insect remains, except
the swollen earth-worm, the obscene beetle, and the bloated toad,
crawling among the rank grass. There is a heavy dankness in the air
itself. The nervous fluid stagnates under it,—the muscles relax into
lassitude,—inexpressible depression sinks upon the heart.
It is impossible to describe the relief we feel when we emerge again
into varied nature beyond the ring-fence,—we have the hill and the
furze, the wild-violet and the thyme, and all the sweet diversity of
our subalpine flora. We have the thatched, patched hut, the fine ragged
children, the blooming cottage-girl,—we have the corn-field, where
weeds of every dye, the beautiful centaurea and scabiosa, the elegant
fumaria, the gaudy cock-rose, and the splendid chrysanthemum, are
contending for existence with the cerealeæ. Look at the broken mound,
with its old picturesque trees and tangled bushes; there is the ancient
root where the throstle had its nestlings, which are now at large on
the leafy boughs, and are {230} tuning their yet unformed notes to
melody. Now every twig has raised its new column of foliage to the sun;
and branch, and root, and stone, embellished all over in the richest
variety of cryptogamic beauty, swarm of insect life. This smooth path
has been paved by the lightsome foot; how superior to the gravel-walk
on which the labourer has grudged his useless toil! Even the cart-ruts
possess an interest, which useful labour has worn. After the smooth
monotony of the park; the turf-dykes, the fluting of the ridges, the
different kinds of crops, are most agreeable diversity. The dunghil,
and chanticleer among his dames, the toiled horse, the lean milch-cow,
and the superhumanly-sagacious-looking shepherd-colley,—every thing we
behold commands a sympathy, draws forth a wish of benevolence.
* * * * *
As Sir Walter Scott’s Critique came under our notice prior to Sir
Henry’s Guide, we shall proceed in the same order.
In the first half of this article, Sir Walter gives the history, and
describes the varied character, of Landscape Gardening, in a very
imaginative and felicitous manner, which, as depending on genius and
literature alone, was to be expected; but, in the latter part of the
essay, when he comes to treat of {231} action and facts, and Sir
Henry’s _discoveries_, the deficiency in practical knowledge and
judgment, only forms a contrast to the fancy, elegance, and erudition
of what goes before.
Sir Walter, apparently not quite unconscious of the ridicule attaching
to the subject,—to this mighty scientific and historic parade in
teaching country gentlemen to amuse themselves by transferring grown
trees as they list, from one place to another, without entirely
destroying the life of the transported subject,—makes a curious effort
to sustain its consequence, by pointing out the immense advantages to a
district by the squire’s residing in it; insinuating, that every thing
which may amuse him at home, and thus induce him to stay, although
of itself childish or infamous, becomes of the highest importance,
being ennobled by the end. The following courtly quotation is from Sir
Walter’s proemial observations: “A celebrated politician used to say,
he would willingly bring in a bill to make poaching felony, another
to encourage the breed of foxes, and a third to revive the decayed
amusements of cock-fighting and bull-baiting; that he would make, in
short, any sacrifice to the humours and prejudices of the country
gentlemen, in their most extravagant form, providing only he could
prevail on them to dwell in their {232} own houses, be the patrons of
their own tenantry, and the fathers of their own children.” Sir Walter
does not attempt to describe or analyze the “humours and prejudices”
necessary to render the above lures efficacious. Does he infer that
such dishonourable power over their fellow men, or that the opportunity
of indulging in such low despicable practices, would induce the country
gentlemen to sojourn in their father-land? It is impossible to say
any thing more insultingly cutting. But we are far from imputing to
Sir Walter any intentional offence. Yet we cannot help being angry
with the freakish favouritism of Fortune, although we are sensible it
belongs instinctively to the female character, often a necessary and
very interesting trait; how she dooms one man from his childhood to
toil incessantly for a bare subsistence; how she lavishes her favours
upon another, and surrounds him from the cradle with every delight;
the mind enlightened, the taste cultivated, the body trained to the
most graceful exercises, _even whose very amusements_ are considered
of so great importance as to throw a high interest upon an art of
no earthly utility, but, on the contrary, where the labour of many
workmen is thrown uselessly away. We are aware that Sir Walter and his
Senator only regard these pastimes {233} of the country gentlemen,
thus highly, through a reflected interest, the latter in a political
view; and the Baronet, from the known warm benevolence of his heart (a
feeling generally associated with genius), towards his poor countrymen,
to whom he supposes, in the event of the country gentlemen being by
any means induced to stay at home, a part of the great land revenue so
unjustly wrung from the poor man’s labour would again devolve.
It is amusing to observe with what a flow of imagination Sir Walter
shews off his friend’s inventions—inventions which have been practised
with less or more success, in a manner very similar, by almost every
planter of note, since the time of Nero. We quote again: “The existence
of the wonders,—so we may call them,—which Sir Henry Steuart has
effected, being thus supported by the unexceptionable evidence of
competent judges (_a deputation by the Highland Society_), what lover
of natural beauty can fail to be interested in his own detailed account
of the mode by which he has been able to make wings for time?”—“But
although we have found the system to be at once original, effectual,
and attended with moderate expense, we are not sanguine enough to hope
that it will at once find {234} general introduction. The application
of steam and gas to the important functions which they at present
perform, was slowly and reluctantly adopted, after they had been
opposed for many years by the prejudices of the public,—earlier or
later this beautiful and rational system will be brought into general
action, when it will do more to advance the picturesque beauty of the
country in five years, than the slow methods hitherto adopted will
in fifty. It is now found we possess the art of changing the face of
nature like the scenes in a theatre, and that we can convert, almost
instantaneously, a desert to an Eden.”
Now, this is admirable! Even were it granted, that no planter before
Sir Henry Steuart’s time, or without his instructions, had ever removed
a tree of considerable size successfully (though we believe he has
nearly as much the merit of discovery in this as in the other curious
invention ascribed to him by Sir Walter, “making wings for time,” which
must certainly have been performed by Sir Henry a long while ago, as
we remember time flying very well when we were a truant boy); yet,
nevertheless, Sir Walter, now that his paroxysm of admiration has had
time to moderate, will surely help us to laugh {235} at the absurdity
of his hyperbolic figures of comparison, with steam, and gas, and
scenic transformation, which throw such ridicule upon his excellent
friend.
We believe that Sir Henry Steuart has been as successful as many others
of his countrymen in transplanting grown trees. We have had some little
practice ourselves in this art, but which, had it not been for Sir
Henry’s _discoveries_, we should not have thought of obtruding on the
notice of the public. The house we occupied was covered to the south
and west by part of an old orchard of apple and pear trees, which
excluded the drying south-western breeze, so necessary in a low damp
situation. We transplanted nearly an acre of these, certainly with
more success and economy than could have been effected by Sir Henry’s
practice, the soil being so tenacious, that it was impossible to remove
the earth from the roots without fracturing all the smaller fibres.
The soil, an adhesive brown _Carse_ clay, contained a good deal of
vegetable matter, to the depth of about 15 inches, when the subsoil,
a close hard yellow clay commenced, into which very few of the roots
penetrated. This ground had been long under grass, and the upper soil
was much bound together by the grass and tree roots. Under these
circumstances we adopted the following plan:—{236}
We first had a stout sledge made, about four feet square, of lumber
pieces of wood, the side pieces about five feet long, on which it slid,
had a small bend, and extended nearly a foot behind the cross bottom
sheaths, which were sparred over with three narrow boards. The stout
chain of a roller was affixed to this sledge, when at use, to drag
it by. In the autumn we prepared the site where we intended placing
each tree, by throwing out the earth on two sides about a foot deep,
and eight feet square, and then dug over the bottom of this shallow
pit one spit deep, and sloped the two other sides, to which the earth
had not been thrown, so that horses could walk across it; we then
took the opportunity of a slight shower, when the ground was slippery
above and hard below, so that the sledge could easily be dragged, and
set the labourers to work to dig a narrow trench, two feet deep, and
about three feet distant from the stem (more or less according to the
size of the tree), around those trees we intended to remove, paying no
regard to the roots, but cutting them right down where they interfered
with the trench, and where the roots in the central part (the part
surrounded by the trench) were not immediately at the surface, paring
off the turf till the roots appeared. This being done, we caused them
to {237} under-dig and scrape out the clay all round, nearly a foot
inward below the roots, and then to introduce two large ladders at one
side as levers to upset the tree, the strong end of the ladders being
put into the trench, and as far underneath the roots as to catch hold
firmly, the outer side of the trench being the fulcrum on which they
rested to obtain a purchase, the light end sloping upward about 14
feet high. Two men were then employed upon each ladder; one of them
pulled down by a rope attached to the top, while the other guided the
ladder, and rocked it a little up and down; and, at the same time,
several men hung upon the opposite side of the tree, either by a rope
or the branches, till their united force upset the tree with a large
cake of clay bound together by the roots, five or six feet square, and
perhaps fifteen inches thick, standing up like a wall, similar to what
occurs when spruce or Scots fir are upset by high winds, in shallow
wet-bottomed soil. We then removed the ladders, sloped the outer side
of the trench where they had rested, and pared away the clay from the
upset root, till we thought four horses could drag it, one or two men
in the mean time sitting in the top to prevent the tree righting. After
this we introduced the sledge, pushing it as far back as possible; if
necessary, cutting holes to {238} admit the ends of the side-pieces of
the sledge through the lower edge of the upset root; and if the tree
were large, placing several wet slippery boards under the sides of the
sledge, that it might be more easily drawn up the acclivity of the
hole. The men hanging or sitting on the top, then let go their hold,
and the tree generally righted itself, standing fair upon the sledge as
it grew; if it did not do this of itself, they assisted its rising by
lifting at the top. The root was then secured firmly upon the sledge
with ropes, and the horses were attached, who, by pulling stoutly,
dragged the sledge with its load out of the hole up the slope, and away
to the prepared new situation, one man walking at each side, having
hold of a rope attached to the top of the tree to guide and steady it
when passing a furrow or other inequality of the road. The horses were
led across the new site, and stopped when the sledge and tree were in
the pit, about a foot past the berth; the ropes fixing the stool on the
sledge were then untied, and, by pulling backward upon the ropes fixed
to the top, the tree was upset again upon its side from off the sledge,
and the sledge dragged forward. The tree was then allowed or assisted
to right itself again in its proper berth, and friable earth packed
well around and scattered over the stool, and a little litter spread
over {239} all. The ground was then drained and trenched, excepting
the part around the tree, which had been stirred in the planting. If
thought necessary, a prop or two were placed to steady the tree during
the winter, as it might otherwise work a little back and forward with
the wind while the clay was moist and soft. After the earth had dried
in the spring, the props were removed.
When we look back on the description of this practice, it seems
tedious; but much of the work is done sooner than described. Were it
of sufficient importance, trees might be grown in something like _lazy
beds_, with water always standing in the dividing trenches, about
fifteen inches lower than the surface, which would procure roots very
manageable by this practice. We once had a small nursery of oaks so
situated, and the trees which were removed, when of considerable size,
had roots uncommonly matted and fibrous, and which carried with them a
large mass of soil. These succeeded very well when transplanted, but
we should consider that plants from a drier poorer soil, with roots
equally fibrous, would be preferable, could they be extracted with as
much adhering earth, which, however, could not be accomplished without
preparation and considerable labour. Were it the only consideration to
procure plants which would best {240} support the transplanting when
of considerable size, this, or the practice of cutting the roots, and
encouraging the rooting by manuring and thickening the earth around
the stool, would merit attention; but as we have already stated, we
consider plants with these matted roots not so likely to grow to large
timber as those with several unchecked large diverging root-leaders.