Some people give as an excuse for not planting trees that it takes so long for them to grow that they will not live to enjoy them. The selfishness of this excuse is enough to condemn it; but it is not tenable from any point of view. It has been said that he who makes two blades of grass grow where only one grew before is a benefactor of his race; and of all the pursuits connected with the interests of mankind what can be the source of more true and disinterested happiness than the knowledge that one has been instrumental in changing a waste and unproductive piece of land into a scene of umbrageous and waving beauty? Cicero speaks of tree-planting as the most delightful occupation of advanced life; and Sir Robert Walpole once said that among the various actions of his busy life none had given him so much satisfaction in the performance and so much unsullied pleasure in the retrospect as the planting with his own hands many of those magnificent trees that now form the pride of Houghton. Of course it is not claimed that every one should have expensive buildings upon his homestead, or wide-spreading lawns around his house. Many are so situated that they cannot afford to live in costly houses or to spend much money on their surroundings; but every one can make his home, however humble, pleasant and homelike, and can keep his dooryard and wayside free from old rubbish. I can understand how love can be happy in a cottage, but I do not believe it possible for a family to grow in knowledge and virtue and enjoy life while dwelling in mean and dirty apartments.