improving the balance of its branches deserves particular attention. It is stated that most trees shew what is called a "weather side," usually in this island to the west and south-west; from which side they seem to bend, and in consequence of which their symmetry is destroyed; that in close plantations the same effect is produced by the too close proximity of the trees; that of this propensity to bend to the gale, the beech and the larch are remarkable examples; while there is scarcely any tree, the sycamore, perhaps, excepted, which does not exhibit a weather side towards the blast, and on the opposite side throw out by far the longest and stoutest branches: that, in other words, all trees growing for a certain time in exposed situations, or even in close ones where they cannot equally expand, may be said to be "ill-balanced." This, in parks much exposed, is found a very serious eye-sore; as, in such situations, the stems describe very unequal angles with the surface, singularly acute on the one side, and as obtuse on the other. In order to remedy this striking deformity, Sir Henry states, that in placing the tree in its new situation, he has uniformly reversed its position; that in consequence of the greater warmth thus secured to it, the greater activity of vegetation is transferred to the deficient side; that in this manner the equal balance of the tree is gradually effected, and its symmetry and beauty unspeakably augmented: that in exposed situations there is no other possible way of procuring a full and extensive ramification on the stormy side, for although where the action of the air is the greatest, there the greatest evolution of buds, and the thickest growth of spray take place; yet that these growths, for the reasons already assigned, are shorter and feebler in proportion as they are more numerous, and that the art of transplanting may in this mode be made to substitute beauty for deformity, and to cure one of the most prominent defects that belong to park trees, especially on the western coasts. This expedient is as remarkable for the soundness of the science that suggested it, as it is for the agreeable effect it produces.

Suppose the tree to be at length dropped on the exact point decided on, in the excavation made to receive it, with what had been its most sheltered, and therefore its most developed side facing the greatest exposure, the most scientific, that is, the most physiological part of the whole process is now to be performed. Two things are to be done; the first comprises the setting up, balancing, and supporting the tree, so that it may be fixed firmly and securely in the earth; the second relates to the proper distribution of the roots: the mode of proceeding which is indispensable to effect the first would be fatal were it adopted with a view of accomplishing the second.

It has been stated that the great trunks of the roots, which of course are nearest the stem of the tree, do not perform the function of absorption; that they are merely the channels by which the absorbed aliment is transmitted to the woody part of the stem, in order to be conveyed to the branches, and through the branches to the leaves. These primary root-trunks are the true cords or props, by which the tree must be securely fixed in the ground; and it fortunately happens that a considerable degree of force may be applied to them, while they can be made to bear a great pressure without sustaining the slightest injury. The first thing to be done is to make the ground firm and solid beneath them: in order to accomplish this purpose, while one workman seizes as many of them as he can hold, raises them up and thus clears a passage to the under bed, another workman throws in mould of the finest sort he can find, in such a way as to form a bank, sloping outwards against the roots so held up, and treads it firmly with his feet.

On this firm bank the primary root-trunks are made to rest, and when distributed upon it, mould is thrown over them, and care is taken to fill in and equalize all the chasms or interstices that appear between them; this being done, the earth is again firmly trodden with the feet, and with a small bluntpointed stake or rammer, about three feet long, mould is pushed in and made firm in the cavities which the foot cannot reach. This process is continued completely round the tree, while all the divisions of the root-branches, constituting of course the great body of the roots, are carefully avoided. When the circle around the tree has been thus fully completed, it is obvious that a circular mound will have been thrown up, which as care has been taken to make it uniformly slope outwards from the trunk of the tree, will have the shape of an inverted china saucer. This circular mound Sir Henry Steuart terms the retaining bank; into which the primary root-trunks are so firmly fixed, that a stout man on applying himself to the transverse ropes, will find himself unable to displace the root even with such a lever as the stem affords him. When the resistance is in this manner made quite uniform on all sides, which should be often and carefully tried, especially on the north-east in lee quarters, the tree may be said to be planted: it is now securely fixed it is provided with a perfect safe-guard against the wind and all this is accomplished before any cover whatever is laid upon the branches of the roots; they together, with the entire mass of their minute and delicate ramifications, remain untouched, and are now to be disposed of.

And the same care that has been employed in preserving and

protecting them while taking them up and transporting them, must now be taken in distributing them in a proper manner. Having been bundled up for security during the lifting and transportation of the tree, and merely untied during the fixing of it in its new situation, they are now to be disentangled and stretched out in a regular manner from the centre. Nature points out the order in which they should be disposed: the order in which they have naturally grown should be closely followed in their distribution. The most profound layer is therefore the first that must be laid down. Beneath and above the primary branches of this layer mould is thrown, and a bank formed in a similar manner as for the primitive trunks; but the pressure made upon these first divisions is not great. The secondary divisions given off by the primary branches of this deep seated layer are next unfolded, spread out, and covered with mould in the same manner, but still less pressure is applied to these when as the subdivisions continue, the ramifications become small, then no pressure whatever is allowed in covering them with mould, but when having, at last, become minute and capillary, the earth is now laid on with the hand in the gentlest possible manner, all pressure being guarded against with extreme care. He who has seen the trunk of an artery beautifully dissected, after a minute injection, may form an adequate conception of the appearance which these tender and delicate filaments present, as they are spread out in every possible direction, upon the soft mould. He who has seen the representation of such an artery in a well-executed plate can form only an inadequate conception of the minuteness and delicacy of these vessels of the plant. It is a sight not to be forgotten.

The deep-seated layer of roots, with its innumerable ramifications, having been thus disposed of, the middle layer with its subdivisions is now unfolded, and spread out, and gently covered with mould; and lastly, the most superficial layer is treated in all respects in a similar manner. And, finally, the green sward, which had been carefully preserved in opening the pit for the reception of the tree, is softly laid over all.

Why should not a tree thus planted stand firmly in the earth without props? Why should not a tree thus treated live and flourish? Art has embedded its primary root-trunks in a bank which cannot be shaken, All the winds of heaven, at least the severest that are sent from heaven to visit this island, may blow against it without moving it; they do blow against it, and do not move it; for no instance has occurred of a tree having been blown down in Sir Henry Steuart's practice; transplantation thus conducted changes the situation of the tree, but alters its

condition in no other respect. The organs which absorb nourishment are preserved uninjured, are placed in the same direction, and enveloped, in the same soil: the trunk, the branches, the apparatus for producing leaves are able to perform all their functions with their wonted vigour. Why should not this creature live? It has the same mouths, the same food, the same vessels for transmitting its aliment to the organs in which it is converted into proper nutriment; the same respiratory organs for elaborating its nutriment; the same secretory organs for preparing its proper juices, and the same excretory organs for carrying out of the system whatever may be noxious. Sir Henry Steuart justly calls transplantation performed in this manner, transplantation on the preservative principle: and preservative it truly is, for only one tree out of forty-five thus transplanted dies. There is much to be said, and something which we intended to say, relative to the after treatment of a being whose station in life has been thus materially changed: the cost of removal, the immediate pictorial effects capable of being produced by the transposition and combination of large and fine trees; the improvement of the soil; the advantages that might be afforded to agricultural crops by the increased shelter which these operations imply, or to which they might easily be made conducive; and last, though not least, the increase in the quantity and value of timber which the science of arboriculture seems capable of augmenting to an extent of which few have formed an adequate conception-these are all highly important and interesting topics, which might admit, and perhaps with some profit, of an extended discussion, but into which space will not allow us to enter at present. For the promotion of the objects they comprehend, Sir Henry Steuart earnestly recommends the formation of an Arboricultural society, analogous to the agricultural and horticultural societies, and observes, that since the art of arboriculture stands next in rank and consequence to that of agriculture, it can flourish only when studied as a separate profession; that were it pursued with the constancy and care with which it would be studied under the fostering influence of such a society, "well-informed land-holders, useful foresters, and scientific nurserymen would speedily rise up;" that facts as well as principles, which are known only to the studious phytologist would become familiar to all, whether owners of woods, or those engaged in their superintendence; and that thus while the property of individuals would be gradually rendered more productive, a great accession would be made to the general wealth and intelligence of the country. A great reward was once offered by a rich, and yet a very poor man,

for the invention of a new pleasure there are times when some of our country gentlemen would be tempted to give a good deal for that same invention: men cannot be always shooting, or hunting, or seeing that the game-laws are carried into execution, nor can dinner be made to last all the day long had they but the heart to know it, Sir Henry Steuart has done for those gentlemen what the satiated prince asked in vain : what he has done for his country there has not yet been time fully to shew.

ART. VII.—The Game of Life. 2 vol. 12mo. by Leitch Ritchie. Bull. London. 1830.

THE HE Game of Life is an experiment by a practised writer and an able man. He has apparently conceived the design of interesting the world by incidents and characters rarely introduced into works of fiction. Penury, labour and irregularity of life are the characteristics of the persons whom he has ventured to offer to the attention of the romantic muse. Their claim to preservation in a well-written novel must chiefly depend upon their reality: they appear, if not to be portraits, to be very truly cut out, as he says, from the back ground of the picture of life. Our surprise is, not that he should have drawn them exactly, for in truth the features of such a state of existence are striking and easily caught, but that a man of talent and education should ever have had the opportunity of witnessing such exhibitions of wretchedness and studying such humble and woe worn characters; the first stirring scene we are introduced to being the back room of a gin-shop, and the chief and most active parties to the "Game of Life," characters who habitually spend their evenings at the public called "The Three Puncheons.' The author, not content with exhibiting them in their moments of hilarity, traces them to their wretched homes, to their starving families, to the despair of the fireless grate, and the famine of the empty cupboard: in short squalor, misery, and, if not dissoluteness, at least gross irregularity of morals are the prominent and favorite subjects of this Morland of the Circulating Library.

The object of the writer is not very clear: he claims the merit of a Utilitarian moral, but in what way he makes it good we should be pleased to be informed. The only moral we can draw is, that persons who enter London without friends, conduct or guidance, are likely to be involved in low