substance to ensnare the female moths. The foliage had been
sprayed.

Henry Van Dyke said the last time he saw James Russell Lowell,
he walked with him in his garden at Elmwood to say goodbye.
There was a great horse chestnut tree beside the house, towering
above the gable, covered with blossoms. The poet looked up and
laid his trembling hands upon the trunk. "I planted the nut,"
said he, "from which the tree grew. My father was with me when I
planted it."

As we admired the shrubbery and trees at Elmwood, we thought of
the inspiration this spot afforded that generous soul who dwelt
so happily here.

"Give fools their gold and knaves their power.
Let Fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree is more than all."


Every schoolboy has read about the famous Washington elm of
Cambridge. What a marvelous tree to think about and gaze upon!
It is difficult to analyze your emotions while standing near
this historic spot gazing at this famous tree.

Since the balmy breeze of some far-off springtime caught those
winged seeds from which America's most celebrated tree sprang,
what changes have come to our land! When this patriarch was
young, in the nearby woods Indians and fierce, wild beasts