creditably, in the estimation of the teacher, they are only halflearned and done. Then, again, it is impossible for the average mind and understanding of the public-school pupil to grasp and master at all adequately the varied and entire range and compass of subjects and studies marked out for and expected of him. Far better would it be for every one concerned, for the pupil and teacher and parents alike, were the educational course apportioned and qualified in accord with the manifest ability of the pupil, and with the circumstances and probable sphere of usefulness of both parents and pupils. This idea, and dominating instinct of the American mind and character, of common equality, and of the wisdom and necessity of educating all alike on a highly pretentious basis and system, or of constantly stimulating the imaginations and aspirations of every pupil, by a process of "cramming" and prompting, may be a very worthy intentional purpose; but it is productive of much mischief, and when pushed to excess, and regardless of all prudential social and industrial considerations, is simply calamitous in its influences and consequences. You can not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Nor can you, by any process of human ingenuity, make aught but an impotent fool of a child whose mind and circumstances will not permit of undue educational exactions and promptings.

As it is, there are tens of thousands of boys and girls who graduate from our public schools and universities who are ruined for life by their school promptings and associations, or by reason of their having been permitted and encouraged to attempt "courses "and to pass grades, which neither their circumstances nor their abilities either sanctioned or justified them in so much as attempting. The consequences invariably are, that while these boys and girls might, under rightful and judicious direction and control, have developed into useful citizens, as workmen or mechanics, or as domestics and nurses, and the girls ultimately as wives and mothers, they are now of no earthly use in any human capacity, but, like drifting timber in our Niagara river, go down to waste and destruction in the cataract of human waters.

THE

BY J. ADDISON MARSHALL

'HE conditions attending aridity seem to be little understood, even by the residents of arid or semi-arid sections

or the savants who profess to have studied the question. That portion of the United States between the Rocky Mountains and the Great Lakes may be classed as semi-arid. Fifty years ago it was designated on the maps as the "Great American Desert." Nearly seven-tenths of it has been transformed within this fifty years from the whilom desert to the most fertile, productive, and easily tilled lands on the continent. So great and cheap have been the agricultural productions of this section for the past few years, combined with the ease and facility of transportation of its products, that many poor lands of the east coast have been allowed to revert to wilderness, and the eastern agriculturist, even at the best, has been driven to his wits' end to successfully compete with the West. The cultivated area of these lands continues to increase and another fifty years will see the entire plain east of the Rocky Mountains covered with waving cereals and supporting a teeming population. This has been brought about almost solely by plowing up the land and thereby furnishing a sponge to retain and utilize the rainfall. On the semi-arid prairie the dew is seldom seen. Such rains as fall are of short duration and great violence, and the tough prairie sod is only slightly penetrated with the moisture, which soon seeks the water-courses and escapes.

On the other hand, when the mass of the country has been plowed up, it drinks its fill of moisture before any escapes, and the conditions of copious dews and moderate and more continuous rainfalls occur. With no mountain ranges and little or no area of forest worthy of the name, doubtless this section will ever be subject to recurrent droughts and devastating storms, but its unapproachable fertility will remain. This

change of conditions of moisture everywhere modifies the climate and even alters the flora of the country. About three changes of the class of settlers must occur to transform the condition of the "howling prairie" to what the frontiersman terms "God's country." In its way, therefore, this section is destined to subjection and fertility in the ordinary course of present conditions, although it demands the struggles and privations of a few generations to accomplish this object unaided.

Not so, however, with the lands in the strictly arid section, the valleys and plateaus west of the first range of the Rocky Mountains. These lands are generally very fertile, but nowhere, save in isolated places, can crops be raised theron, except by artificial irrigation with its fluent waters, which are wholly inadequate to cover more than a small moiety of the land. It is, however, perfectly practicable to make the greater portion of this section, all that is worth cultivating after reclamation, to furnish sufficient moisture for its own use. This may be done simply by planting coniferous trees in sufficient quantity to affect the climate of the location.

During my early residence in Nebraska, in the 'seventies, the hot winds were very common, not only in the summer when they were disastrous to crops, but also as a necessary incident to the weather of late winter and early spring. On one of these occasions, after the hot winds had been blowing for a day or two, I observed the ground under these trees was wet to the extent of being muddy, and probably to the depth of one inch or thereabouts, while all around was in the dry and dusty condition of usual aridity. The trees themselves-mostly Austrian pines, or the so-called native red cedars, but which are probably really juniper trees-were dripping with moisture and their foliage was of the peculiar intense green which the trees take on when subjected to continuous rain. This was long before the vegetation of spring had started and was, therefore, more noticeable. I observed this for many years afterward, and though usually not so noticeable it always in some degree occurred whenever a warmer current of air struck the foliage.

This means that if arid sections were planted as heavily with coniferous trees as Washington or Oregon, they would have approximately as humid a climate. But, it is answered, the latter States are adjacent to the ocean and near to a moisture-laden atmosphere. This is true. Still it is doubtful if the air of these States contains more moisture in fact than the Gulf breeze across the more arid States, save that the latter air, passing over the hot and arid country, has the same effect upon it that it does to pass moist, humid steam over a superheater. This does not in fact destroy the moisture but only changes its condition. Subject this same super-heated steam to a sudden lowering of the temperature and it will show just as copious moisture as that of a lower temperature. This is what the coniferous foliage does. It lowers the temperature of the surrounding air, the result, of course, being the precipitation of moisture. The hot winds of arid locations do not appreciably precipitate moisture in contact with deciduous foliage and the latter withers and finally dies in such locations without the aid of irrigation-a neighboring stream or some other unusual assistance. The only aid deciduous foliage seems to be is the shade it furnishes to deter evaporation. Its dead leaves, too, act somewhat as a sponge to hold the attained moisture, in the same way that plowed land does upon the arid prairie. Moisture, like wealth, is attained in two ways: either by getting in abundance when prodigality is excusable, or getting less to save therefrom by a rigid economy.

Plowing and the deciduous foliage are the saving influences, while the presence of the conifer in abundance will alone supply a wealth of moisture from the surrounding atmosphere and aid as well in its retention. Showing this fact conclusively, the only trees of the arid regions existing in any quantity, are the conifers or those of the same foliage. The few cedars of Lebanon have sustained existence amidst aridity for untold centuries-an example of "survival of the fittest "from a supposed once plentiful existence, while the piñons, or nuts pine, of the Southwest are well-known examples near by. These, with a species of cedar, are almost the sole native trees

in a vast arid area in the Southwest; and owing to their plentiful presence on some mountains in New Mexico, valleys adjacent can be found with moisture enough to raise ordinary crops without irrigation, while otherwise all around is aridity.

The change can therefore be made, and the means are simple. The next question is the cost. In answer to this I say the cost is absolutely nothing; that is to say, the wood when grown will pay, and more than pay, for all expenditure. At the least the fruitful and self-sustaining country, which will result in the land not covered with trees, will be a clear profit. How much of the area must be planted to trees to render the surrounding country arable and inhabitable is a matter for consideration, and perhaps experiment. It would seem it need not be very large if regular and systematic methods are employed, and, of course, the land must be retained after the trees are once growing. The older States will pay a greater or less penalty for the wholesale and wanton destruction of their forests; and each 160 acres should have at least 10 acres of coniferous trees to protect the fruitfulness and moisture of the remaining lands.

One difficulty is that the enterprise must be governmental, controlled by constant and careful regulation, and the pioneer generation cannot be expected to reap at least the full benefit. In this day of hurry and impatience for sudden profit, even the government is too impatient to undertake so slowly maturing benefits. It may be necessary to leave it for a wiser and more reflective generation, a denser population, whose necessities require the territory. Yet where a single lone tree will draw from the parching blast enough moisture not only to cover itself in profusion but to shed the excess upon the surrounding earth to the extent of a fair shower, it is evident that it is the fault of no one but the inhabitants if what is now an arid region shall always remain arid. And it would seem easy to protect a State and reclaim it from aridity, perhaps even a county, and possibly a single farm, by more liberal planting. Certain it is Nature shows by this simple method that an arid country need not necessarily remain so.