made a most material difference in the attributes and constitution of the plant.

We must suppose that our reader has some general acquaintance with the circulation of the sap in trees, being the substance by which they are nourished, and resembling, in that respect, the chyle in the human system. This nutritive substance is collected by the roots with those fibres which form their terminations, and which, with a degree of address which seems almost sentient, travel in every direction, and with unerring skill, to seek those substances in the soil best qualified to supply the nourishment which it is their business to convey. The juice, or sap, thus extracted from the soil, is drawn up the tree by the efforts of vegetation, each branch and each leaf serving, by its demand for nourishment, as a kind of forcing-pump, to suck the juice up to the topmost shoot, to extend it to all the branches, and, in a healthy tree, to the extremity of each shoot. The roots, in other words, are the providers of the aliment; the branches, shoots, and leaves are the appetite of the tree, which induce it to consume the food thus supplied to it. The analogy holds good betwixt the vegetable and animal world. If the roots of a tree are injured, or do not receive the necessary supplies of nourishment, the tree must perish, like an animal unsupplied with food, whatever be the power of the appetite in one case, and of the vegetation in the other, to consume the nutritive substance, if it could be procured. This is dying by hunger. If, on the other hand, the powers of vegetation are in any respect injured, and the tree, either from natural decline, from severe amputation, or from any other cause, ceases to supply those shoots and leaves which suck the sap up into the system, then the tree dies of a decay in the powers of digestion.

But the tree, like the animal, is not nourished by food alone; air is also necessary to it. If this be supplied in such extreme quantities as is usual in exposed situations, the trees will suffer from the action of the cold, like a man in an inclement climate, where he is, indeed, furnished with enough of pure air, but where the cold that attends it deranges his organic system.

In

like manner, when placed in a situation where air is excluded, both the vegetable and the animal are reduced to a state of suffocation equally fatal to their health, and, at a certain period, to their existence. Both productions of nature have, however, their resources; the animal, exposed to a painful and injurious degree of cold, seeks shelter; man, however often condemned to face the extremity of cold, supplies his want of warmth by artificial clothing; and the inferior animals in the polar latitudes, on the Himalaya mountains,

mountains, and so forth, are furnished by nature with an additional thickness of furs, which would be useless in warmer regions.* Trees placed in an exposed situation have also their resources ;the object being to protect the sap-vessels, which transmit nutriment, and which lie betwixt the wood and the bark, the tree never fails to throw out, and especially on the side most exposed to the blast, a thick coating of bark, designed to protect, and which effectually does protect, the sap-vessels and the process of circulation to which they are adapted, from the injury which necessarily must otherwise ensue. Again, if the animal is in danger of suffocation from want of vital air, instead of starving by being exposed to its unqualified rigour, instinct or reason directs the sufferer to approach those apertures through which any supply of that necessary of human life can be attained, and induces man, at the same time, to free himself from any coverings which may be rendered oppressive by the state in which he finds himself. Now it may be easily proved, that a similar instinct to that which induced the unfortunate sufferers in the black-hole of Calcutta to struggle with the last efforts to approach the solitary aperture which admitted air to their dungeon, and to throw from them their garments, in order to encourage the exertions which nature made to relieve herself by perspiration, is proper, also, to the noblest of the vegetable tribe. Look at a wood or plantation which has not been duly thinned :—the trees which exist will be seen drawn up to poles, with narrow and scanty tops, endeavouring to make their way towards such openings to the sky as might permit the access of light and air. If entirely precluded by the boughs which have closed over them, the weaker plants will be found strangely distorted by attempts to get out at a side of the plantation; and finally, if overpowered in these attempts by the obstacles opposed to them, they inevitably perish. As men throw aside their garments, influenced by a close situation, trees placed in similar circumstances, exhibit a bark thin and beautifully green and succulent, entirely divested of that thick, coarse, protecting substance which covers the sap-vessels in an exposed position.

Another equally curious difference betwixt trees which have stood in exposed situations and those which have grown in such as are sheltered, is also so reasonable in appearance as to seem the act of volition, so curiously do the endeavours of nature in the vegetable world correspond with the instinct of animals and the reason of mankind. Man and beast make use of the position of their limbs to steady themselves against the storm, although, as their exposure to it is only temporary, the exertion bears the The reader is referred to Bishop Heber's travels in India for some most interesting details on this subject.

same

same character: but trees, incapable of locomotion, assume, when placed in an exposed situation, a permanent set of selfprotecting qualities, and become extremely different in the disposition of the trunk, roots, and branches, from those of the same species which remain in the shelter of crowded plantations. The stem of trees in an exposed situation is always short and thick, because, being surrounded by air and light all around, the tree has not the motive to rush up towards the free air which is so strongly perceptible in close woods. For the same reason, its branches are thrown widely out in every direction, as if to balance itself against the storm, and to obtain, from the disposition of its parts, a power of resistance which may supply the place of the shelter enjoyed by plants more favourably situated. The roots of such trees, which are always correlative to the branches, are augmented in proportion as necessity obliges the former to extend themselves.

There is a singular and beautiful process of action and reaction which takes places betwixt the progress of the roots and of the branches. The latter must, by their vigour and numbers, stretch out under ground before the branches can develope themselves in the air; and, on the other hand, it is necessary that the branches so develope themselves, to give employment to the roots, in collecting food. There is a system of close commerce between them; if either fail in discharging their part, the other must suffer in proportion. The increase of the branches, therefore, in exposed trees is and must be in proportion with that of the roots, and vice versá; and as the exposed tree spreads its branches on every side to balance itself against the wind, as it shortens its stem or trunk, to afford the mechanical force of the tempest a shorter lever to act upon, so numerous and strong roots spread themselves under ground, by way of anchorage, to an extent and in a manner unknown to sheltered trees.

These facts afford the principles on which our author selects the subjects of his operations. It may seem a simple proposition, that to succeed in the removal of a large tree to an open situation, the operator ought to choose one which, having grown up in a similar degree of exposure, has provided itself with those qualities which are peculiarly fitted for it. Every one will be ready to acknowledge its truth at the first statement; but Sir Henry has been the first to act upon it; and, having ascertained its accuracy, to communicate it to the world. It is Columbus making the egg stand upright.

Our author has enumerated four properties which nature has taught trees that stand unsheltered to acquire by their own efforts, in order to suit themselves for their situation. First, thickness and

induration

induration of bark; secondly, shortness and girth of stem; thirdly, numerousness of roots and fibres; and fourthly, extent, balance, and closeness of branches. These, Sir Henry has denominated the four protecting qualities; and he has proved, by a very plain and practical system of reasoning, founded upon an intimate acquaintance with the most distinguished writers on vegetable physiology, that in proportion as the subject for transplantation is possessed of these four qualities, in the same degree it is fitted to encounter exposure as a single tree in its new position. The characteristics of the trees which have grown in sheltered and warm situations are precisely the opposite of these; their bark is thin, glossy, and fresh-looking, without any of the rough, indurated substance necessary to protect the sap-vessels when exposed to the extremity of cold; the stem is tall, and slender, as drawn upwards in quest of light; the tops are small and thinly provided with branches, because they have not had the necessary room to expand themselves; and, lastly, the roots are spare and scanty. Sir Henry Steuart says, that a tree, in the situation, and bearing the character last described, is possessed of the nonprotecting properties.' A great coat, and a pair of overalls or mud-boots, may be called, with propriety, the protecting properties of a man who mounts his steed in rough weather; but he who sits at home, in a night-gown and slippers, can hardly be said to possess any non-protective qualities, or anything, except a negation of the habiliments which invest his out-of-doors friend. We will not, however, disturb the subject by cavilling about expressions; it is enough that the reader understands that the presence of the non-protecting qualities' implies the total absence of those which render trees fit to endure the process of transplantation.

Yet, though this principle of selection be, when once stated, so very satisfactory, it is no less certain, that no preceding author had so much as glanced at it; and that convenience, the usual, though by no means the safe guide of planting operations, has pointed out an entirely different course. Young woods, being usually planted far too thickly with hard-wood, or, in other words, the principals being in too great a proportion to the firs intended as nurses,-are found, after the lapse of twelve or fourteen years, to be crowded with tall, shapely plants, which have not room to grow, and are obviously damaging each other. The consequence of this is, that the proprietor, unwilling to lose so many thriving plants, is very often tempted, by the healthiness of their appearance, to select them as subjects for transplantation. Their graceful and lengthened stems, and smooth and beautiful bark, seem to be marks of health, (as, indeed, they are, while

they

they remain in the shelter for which they are qualified,) and the thinness of their heads will, it is supposed, prevent their suffering much by the wind. But almost all such attempts prove abortive. The tree comes, indeed, into leaf, for one year, as some trees (the ash particularly) will do, if cut down and carried to the woodyard. But the next year the transplanted tree displays symptoms of decay. The leaves do not appear in strength and numbers enough to carry the sap to the ends of the branches; the stem becomes covered with a number of small sprays, which at once indicate that the sap has been arrested in its progress, and that the tree is making a desperate, we had almost said an unnatural, effort to avail itself of the nutriment in the stem, which it cannot transfer to the branches; the bark becomes dry, hide-bound, and mossed; the projecting branches wither down to the stem and must be cut off; and, after all, the young tree either dies utterly, or dwindles into a bush, which, perhaps, may recover elevation, and the power of vegetation, after a pause of ten or twelve years, but more likely is stubbed up as a melancholy and disagreeable object. This grand and leading error is avoided in the Allanton system, by the selection, from the beginning, of such trees as, having grown in an exposed situation, are provided with the protecting properties, and can, therefore, experience no rude change of atmosphere or habits by the change of place to which they are subjected.

But it may be asked, where is the planter to find such trees as are proper for being transplanted? Our author replies, that there are few properties, however small in extent, or unimproved by plantations, which do not possess some subjects endowed, perfectly or nearly so, with the protecting qualities. The open groves, and scattered trees around old cottages, or in old hedge-rows-where not raised upon an embankment, which gives the roots a determination downwards are invaluable to the transplanter. They are already inured to the climate, and furnished with a quantity of branches and roots, they possess the limited length and solidity of stem and the quality of bark necessary to enable them to endure exposure,-in other words, they are fit for being immediately transplanted. In most cases, however, the trees may have but partially gained the protecting qualities; and where such subjects occur, they must, by training, be made to complete the acquiIsition of them. The process to which they are subjected is various, according to the special protecting quality in which the tree is deficient. In general, and especially where the bark appears of too fine and thin a texture to protect the sap-vessels, a gradual and, in the end, a free exposure to the elements, induces the trees selected fully to assume the properties which

enable