and haul the logs.

If you decide to cut a tree yourself, a little inquiry will show for
what purpose it will bring the highest price. Locust sticks, for
example, four to six inches thick, will bring in New York ten or
fifteen cents a running foot for insulator pinions. If a maple
proves to be either "curly" or "bird'seye" (this depending not on
the variety, but on the accidental undulations of the fiber), it
will be in demand for the manufacture of furniture.

Sugar maples ten or fifteen feet high can be transplanted or sold.
Nut and fruit trees will nearly always be worth keeping.

Cedar sticks fourteen feet long will bring twenty cents in most
places for hop and bean poles. See what can be sold instead of
burned, and don't cut down recklessly; an unsalable tree may be
valuable as a windbreak or as shade for your house. The wrong tree
for shade is the dense foliaged, low-branched tree which forms a
solid dome from the ground up. The right tree, in the opinion of
Henry Hicks (in _Country Life in America),_ is the American elm,
which ought to be called the umbrella tree. Pliny speaks of the
plane tree, our sycamore or buttonwood, as excellent, because of the
horizontal branches which, like window blinds, allow free passage of
the breezes while intercepting the heat of the sun.

The ideal shade tree is a canopy like a parasol over the house, with
high, leafy branches that do not shut off light and air from the
windows. This cools a house by keeping the sun off and cools the air
by the rapid evaporation from its leaves, and will make it ten to
fifteen degrees cooler in summer. It will be cheaper and more
effective than a combination of awnings, piazza, and eaves. Woodman,
spare that tree.

Stumps may be burned out To get a good draught, bore a hole in a
slanting direction far down among the roots. The smoke goes through
the hole first and then the flame, boring the body to the roots deep
enough to plow. Land can also be cleared by dynamite. We condense
from Edith Loring Fullerton in _Farming,_ on what has been done.

To go into the desolate, uncultivated, burned over "waste lands"
near a great city and put ten acres under cultivation in the
shortest possible space of time was our problem. We undertook it at
short notice in an uncertain season--the autumn--with the
determination to get at least a portion of the land seeded down to
winter rye before cold weather prohibited further work.

United to this problem was