It may be objected to Arbor Day, or to any lessons on forestry in schools, that the course of study is already overcrowded, and this fact I admit. But the requisite talks on trees, their value and beauty, need occupy but two or three hours. In some large cities there may be little or no room for tree-planting, and no call for even a half-holiday for this work, but even there such talks, or the memorizing of suitable selections, on the designated day, would be impressive and useful. The essential thing is to _start_ habits of observation and occupation with trees, which will prompt pupils in their walks, or when at work, or at play, to study them. The talks on this subject, which Superintendent Peaslee says were the most interesting and profitable lessons the pupils of Cincinnati ever had in a single day, occupied only the morning of Arbor Day, the afternoon being given to the practical work. Such talks will lead our youth to admire trees, and realize that they are the grandest products of nature, and form the finest drapery that adorns this earth in all lands. Thus taught, they will wish to plant and protect trees, and find in their own happy experience that there is a peculiar pleasure in their parentage, whether forest, fruit, or ornamental—a pleasure which never cloys, but grows with their growth. Like grateful children, trees bring rich filial returns, and compensate a thousand fold for all the care they cost. This love of trees, early implanted in the school, and fostered in the home, will make our youth practical arborists. They should learn that trees have been the admiration of the greatest and best men of all ages. The ancients understood well the beauty as well as the economic and hygienic value of trees. The Hebrew almost venerated the palm. It was the chosen symbol of Judea on their coins, and was graven on the doors of the Temple as the sacred sign of justice. The Cedar of Lebanon was justly the pride of the Jews, and became to them the emblem of strength and beauty. The Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans were proficients in tree-planting. Hence Thebes, Memphis, Athens, Carthage, Rome, Pompeii and Herculaneum, as their ruins still show, had their shaded streets or parks. Two thousand years ago, the richest Romans maintained a rural home, as does the wealthy Londoner, Viennese, or Berliner to-day, and their ancient villas were lavishly adorned. The Paradise of the Persians was filled with trees and roses. This taste for beautiful gardens was transplanted from Persia to Greece, and the Greek philosophers held their schools in beautiful gardens, or groves. The devastations of parks, the destruction of shade trees, the neglect of public streets and private grounds, the decay of rural tastes, and the utter slight of home adornments, were clearer proofs of the great relapse to barbarism than the vandalism which destroyed the proud monuments of classic art and literature.