I know few saunters more enjoyable than one along by a hedgerow in spring; and when, as you pause and linger in delight over the rich clusters of the hawthorn blossom, a breeze passes, and the ground is whitened with the frail flowers, do not the words of our Saviour come home to the heart - "If God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, 0 ye of little faith !"

In summer every one values a tree for its shade, as well as for its beauty; but the latter quality comes more into notice in autumn, when, even in this country, there is colouring bright enough to give us some idea of the much boasted-of American "fall." To the real lover of trees, however, their interest does not entirely depart even when "Mart'mas winds "have blown the beauty out of the landscape in the eyes of the ordinary observer; for the form, the characteristic form, of each tree is then seen, and whether it be the united strength and grace of the ash, the hardy gnarled endurance of the oak, the sheltering feathery spread of the beech, or the light playfulness of the birch, "Arching like a fountain shower," each has a claim on our admiration; while there still lingers enough of colour in the bark, varied from a purpled hue to a silvery gray, and marbled, it may be, with moss and lichens, to arrest even an unartistic eye. Nor does a fall of snow deprive our home landscape of these beauties; for the contrast between the trees, as they bend beneath or bear up under their feathery burden, is more clearly defined - the evergreens, especially the firs, with their massy flakes of snow standing out so nobly anions; the bare stems and leafless branches. Even in that universally disliked weather, a thick November fog, I have seen the leafless trees assume a certain grandeur, like giant skeletons looming through the mist, and breaking up the dull uniformity spread over the landscape. Not unfre-quently, also, does a sudden frost come on during the night, and lo! the morning light shews all the trees sparkling as with diamonds, the heavy dripping moisture changed to brilliant jewels, - meet emblem of the depressing trials of the Christian, meekly and nobly borne, ofttimes changed to blessings, and "the garment of praise," given for "the spirit of heaviness."

"Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew, The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view The face of nature in a rich disguise, And brighten'd every object to my eyes; For every shrub, and every blade of grass, And every pointed thorn seem'd wrought in glass : In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show, While through the ice the crimson berries glow."

Well may Ruskin say that no one can be far wrong, in way of life or right temper of mind, if he loves the trees enough, adding, "If human life be cast among trees at all, the love borne to them is a sure test of its purity."

To those accustomed to the shade and sense of protection afforded by old trees, there is a strange feeling of interest excited by the sight of a nursery of young seedlings in their different stages of growth. It seems almost as difficult to believe that these trim little rows of plants a few inches high, will ever be the pride and pleasure of future times, as it is to realise that the light-hearted children around us will grow up to be heads of households and protectors of others. Each individual that loves trees at all, has probably some one special favourite, the preference frequently determined by early associations; but whether it be the sycamore or beech, loved because under their shade we played, or the horse-chestnut, whose gummy buds and fanlike leaves were our childish treasures, or the fir and larch, from which we gathered our mimic needles and pins, or, dearer than all, the hawthorn and rowan, with their snowy clusters and "berries red and bright," - it matters not, the longer we know and study our favourite, the more do we value it, and the playfellow of childhood becomes the friend of riper years. Few things are more perplexing to the lover of trees than the decision sometimes necessary as to which must be cut down, either in a clump where they are hindering each other's growth, or when a view may be opened out by the removal, or light and air admitted to the dwelling. No one who merely looks upon woods and forests as "timber" to be marked for felling, can under-stand the hesitation, the alternate changes of plan, the difference between the summer thought and the winter thought of the owner of a few cherished trees; and it is wise certainly thus to ponder, and look at the question on all sides; for cutting down a tree is an irretrievable step. It has been said that every man's trees should be cut down by his neighbour; I know I should .be sorry to seethe best Samaritan that ever lived with axe in hand among our trees. But when a tree is doomed to fall, it is wise to make its removal now the source of pleasure, instead of indulging vain regrets; and it must be admitted that very frequently its absence does give great additional enjoyment, for, besides opening out a view of distant mountain or extended champaign, there is a peculiar feeling of delight in the expanse of sky now seen. Then the pleasure derivable from one tree is by no means ended when it is cut down; to have it cut up and used as firewood is another interest connected with it, while the gnarled root may be put into some shady corner, primroses and ferns planted in its hollow crevices and around it, so that it becomes anew "a thing of beauty," and an additional source of enjoyment.

The deeply interesting and curious laws which regulate the growth and form of trees can hardly be explained or understood without the use of diagrams; but if the reader should wish to pursue the subject, most ample information will be found in "Typical Forms and Special Ends in Creation," and in the fifth volume of "Modern Painters." Perhaps it may be feared that such details will be dry reading, but it is not so; and the knowledge thus obtained gives such an additional interest to every tree we look upon, that it is almost like the acquisition of a new sense. The more deeply, the more minutely we search into the works of God, the more do we feel that indeed His works are "past finding out;" and when we are told that for His "glory they are and were created," is it not well to seek to understand these His "wonderful works?" One object of this book being to shew how near at hand sources of pleasure lie, if we will but open our minds to enjoy them, I earnestly recommend all lovers of trees, or those who wish to become such, to make themselves acquainted with the many curious discoveries connected with the growth of their favourites; till they have done so, they can have no idea of the added interest they will feel in every leaf, even in the winter-stripped branches and spray. There is, indeed, as Dr M'Cosh remarks, enough in "a pine cone to reward the study, for hours together, of the very highest intellect."