Praise for Newfoundland Regiment
A very violent rainfall, which flooded the trenches more than waist deep, was followed up by three days of northerly blizzard with intense frost
April 12, 1916
We have received from Sir Walter Davidson, Governor of Newfoundland, a copy of a letter written to him by Brigadier-General Cayley, commanding the 88th brigade, of which the Newfoundland Regiment formed one of the units. This officer pays a high tribute to the gallantry, efficiency, and adaptability of the Newfoundland soldiers: I feel sure that you and the people of Newfoundland will be anxious to hear of the doings of their contingent since they have been on active service. As you doubtless know, the regiment landed at Suvla in the Gallipoli Peninsula in September, and were attached to the 88th Brigade of the 29th Division. which brigade I have the honour to command. The brigade was holding trenches very close to the Turks on the left centre of our line.
The Newfoundland Regiment was at first in reserve. Whilst in reserve all officers and the different companies were sent up to the trenches and attached to regiments in warfare. All ranks were remarkably quick in picking up all there was to be learnt, and their keenness was very noticeable. The result was that after a very short time they took over part of the firing line as a separate unit. There was no big operation, but small enterprises were frequently on foot, and in all they had to do the regiment continually showed a splendid spirit of readiness and resource.
I especially recall incidents of the nights of November 4 and 6, when we advanced a part of our line. I detailed them for this work, and it was admirably carried out, all who took part showing the highest courage and determination in face of very severe opposition. The results of the operations were entirely successful.
Another occasion I should wish to recall is the storm of November 26 and following days. A very violent rainfall, which flooded the trenches more than waist deep, was followed up by three days of northerly blizzard with intense frost. The conditions were such that the most veteran troops might have been excused for losing heart, but in spite of very heavy casualties from exposure, the regiment never for a moment gave in, but maintained their spirit and cheerfulness in a most wonderful manner. Then again, in the evacuation of Suvla and Helles operations, of which the success depended entirely upon the steadiness and discipline of the troops taking part, their share in these extremely anxious movements was most admirably performed.
It has been the greatest honour and pleasure to me to have these gallant fellows in my brigade, whose traditions they have most worthily upheld. Their fellow-countrymen have every reason to be proud of them on their doings. Their casualties have been many from bullets and sickness.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/newfoundlanders-to-the-fore-p03mcvwt3?CMP=TNLEmail_118918_2100145&MN=26.07.2017%20Newfoundland%20(1)
The Newfoundland Regiment was at first in reserve. Whilst in reserve all officers and the different companies were sent up to the trenches and attached to regiments in warfare. All ranks were remarkably quick in picking up all there was to be learnt, and their keenness was very noticeable. The result was that after a very short time they took over part of the firing line as a separate unit. There was no big operation, but small enterprises were frequently on foot, and in all they had to do the regiment continually showed a splendid spirit of readiness and resource.
I especially recall incidents of the nights of November 4 and 6, when we advanced a part of our line. I detailed them for this work, and it was admirably carried out, all who took part showing the highest courage and determination in face of very severe opposition. The results of the operations were entirely successful.
Another occasion I should wish to recall is the storm of November 26 and following days. A very violent rainfall, which flooded the trenches more than waist deep, was followed up by three days of northerly blizzard with intense frost. The conditions were such that the most veteran troops might have been excused for losing heart, but in spite of very heavy casualties from exposure, the regiment never for a moment gave in, but maintained their spirit and cheerfulness in a most wonderful manner. Then again, in the evacuation of Suvla and Helles operations, of which the success depended entirely upon the steadiness and discipline of the troops taking part, their share in these extremely anxious movements was most admirably performed.
It has been the greatest honour and pleasure to me to have these gallant fellows in my brigade, whose traditions they have most worthily upheld. Their fellow-countrymen have every reason to be proud of them on their doings. Their casualties have been many from bullets and sickness.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/newfoundlanders-to-the-fore-p03mcvwt3?CMP=TNLEmail_118918_2100145&MN=26.07.2017%20Newfoundland%20(1)
Newfoundlanders to the fore
Floating Swamp is the name for a quaking morass which gives no foothold anywhere, but heaves and oozes and bubbles to unknown depths as you wade through it
September 4, 1917
In proportion to their numbers there are no troops in the Army which have earned for themselves a finer reputation than the Newfoundlanders. Nothing could have exceeded the splendour of their sacrifice on July 1 last year on the Somme. Nothing could have been sterner or better than their later fighting there upon the Switch Line. This year at Arras, beyond Monchy, they behaved magnificently, and, as I told in my dispatches at the time, inflicted relatively colossal losses on the enemy. Once more in the recent fighting here they have done superbly. It was in the advance beyond Steenbeek, when they were among the troops whose task was to cross some 500 yards of what is known as “Floating Swamp” to attack a strong fortified position with concrete defences on the farther side.
Floating Swamp is the name for a quaking morass which gives no foothold anywhere, but heaves and oozes and bubbles to unknown depths as you wade through it. In this case experience showed that the depth varied from the height of a man’s waist to his chest or throat. When a man sank much above his waist he had to stay there to be pulled out, if fortune favoured, later. Those who were only knee-high or waist-high or less than up to the armpits went on. There was no time to stay then to pull a comrade out, for the barrage, like a pillar of smoke by day, moved on before, and they must follow as close as might be behind it.
SWEPT BY MACHINE-GUNS
The swamp itself was a fearsome thing to breast, and it was swept by machine-gun fire, which, however, spluttered blindly through our barrage. Among the Newfoundlanders are men of the hardy fishing class, and especially trappers and lumbermen from the woods, accustomed to fight with Nature in all her moods, whom nothing in the way of floods or swamps or man can appal. Behind our barrage they went doggedly on in the grey of the early morning, wading, stumbling, forcing a way as best they could. Those who were badly hit sank into the dreadful ooze. Some lightly wounded went on after their comrades or made their painful way back. But the rest went on and, mud from head to toe, with only their rifles held above their heads still dry, panting and almost worn out, on the heels of the barrage they rushed the German fort.
There was a short burst of wild fighting. and the fort was theirs after as fine an exhibition of mere physical endurance as men have often been called on to show. Then, when it was over. they turned to help their comrades who were still embedded in the slime, and in bodies of three or four together, they pulled them out and got them safely to shore. It is largely owing to them that our line here is now well beyond the Broenbeek, up the first stages of the ascent on the other side of the dip to the little valley bottom.
While the Newfoundlanders breasted the morass English troops on their right worked round the south side of the great swamp and stormed the fortified positions which the Germans had established there. They had drier going, but were even more exposed to the machine-gun fire which swept their advance, and they, too, behaved with the greatest dash and gallantry.
AN OLD SOLDIER’S WAY
It is in connexion with the fighting hereabouts that a tale is toid of a certain sergeant-major of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers. This man had already been wounded five times and bore the wound stripes on his arm. There was an enemy position of clustered concrete pill-boxes, with mud and shell-holes around it, which seemed impossible of approach by direct attack. The sergeant-major asked permission to go alone and see what he could do by getting round behind it. He went by crawling on his belly or leaping from shell-hole to shell-hole, and managed to get round, and the next thing that his comrades knew was that the fort was silent, and round from behind came the sergeant-major staggering under the weight of a machine-gun under either arm and the officer commanding the post following as his prisoner. There were six machine-guns in the post in all. but the sergeant-major explained that he had brought out two just to show that he had really been inside, and, in addition to the officer in command, 36 prisoners of other ranks came filing out.
Another post was captured in somewhat similar fashion by a sergeant who took six men with him and crawled round and circumvented it. But all this fighting here produces incidents like these. It is beastly fighting, but it really seems as if the worse and more testing the conditions the finer our men show themselves.
Happily at the moment there seems promise of an improvement in the weather. No rain has fallen since yesterday noon. The sky is clear of clouds and a keen autumn tang is in the air, making excellent drying weather, which seems to hold promise of lasting. The artillery has been very active, not only during the day, but through the long moonlit night, and so great was the noise last night, both on earth and in the air, that it was not easy, even well behind the lines, to sleep.
LATER
I have just learned that in the shelling, the noise of which I heard this morning, of a peaceful village well behind our lines the Germans killed two small school-children and wounded several other civilians, doing no military damage.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/a-lumber-camp-in-the-highlands-k2050kpnj?CMP=TNLEmail_118918_2100145&MN=26.07.2017%20Newfoundland%20(1)
Floating Swamp is the name for a quaking morass which gives no foothold anywhere, but heaves and oozes and bubbles to unknown depths as you wade through it. In this case experience showed that the depth varied from the height of a man’s waist to his chest or throat. When a man sank much above his waist he had to stay there to be pulled out, if fortune favoured, later. Those who were only knee-high or waist-high or less than up to the armpits went on. There was no time to stay then to pull a comrade out, for the barrage, like a pillar of smoke by day, moved on before, and they must follow as close as might be behind it.
SWEPT BY MACHINE-GUNS
The swamp itself was a fearsome thing to breast, and it was swept by machine-gun fire, which, however, spluttered blindly through our barrage. Among the Newfoundlanders are men of the hardy fishing class, and especially trappers and lumbermen from the woods, accustomed to fight with Nature in all her moods, whom nothing in the way of floods or swamps or man can appal. Behind our barrage they went doggedly on in the grey of the early morning, wading, stumbling, forcing a way as best they could. Those who were badly hit sank into the dreadful ooze. Some lightly wounded went on after their comrades or made their painful way back. But the rest went on and, mud from head to toe, with only their rifles held above their heads still dry, panting and almost worn out, on the heels of the barrage they rushed the German fort.
There was a short burst of wild fighting. and the fort was theirs after as fine an exhibition of mere physical endurance as men have often been called on to show. Then, when it was over. they turned to help their comrades who were still embedded in the slime, and in bodies of three or four together, they pulled them out and got them safely to shore. It is largely owing to them that our line here is now well beyond the Broenbeek, up the first stages of the ascent on the other side of the dip to the little valley bottom.
While the Newfoundlanders breasted the morass English troops on their right worked round the south side of the great swamp and stormed the fortified positions which the Germans had established there. They had drier going, but were even more exposed to the machine-gun fire which swept their advance, and they, too, behaved with the greatest dash and gallantry.
AN OLD SOLDIER’S WAY
It is in connexion with the fighting hereabouts that a tale is toid of a certain sergeant-major of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers. This man had already been wounded five times and bore the wound stripes on his arm. There was an enemy position of clustered concrete pill-boxes, with mud and shell-holes around it, which seemed impossible of approach by direct attack. The sergeant-major asked permission to go alone and see what he could do by getting round behind it. He went by crawling on his belly or leaping from shell-hole to shell-hole, and managed to get round, and the next thing that his comrades knew was that the fort was silent, and round from behind came the sergeant-major staggering under the weight of a machine-gun under either arm and the officer commanding the post following as his prisoner. There were six machine-guns in the post in all. but the sergeant-major explained that he had brought out two just to show that he had really been inside, and, in addition to the officer in command, 36 prisoners of other ranks came filing out.
Another post was captured in somewhat similar fashion by a sergeant who took six men with him and crawled round and circumvented it. But all this fighting here produces incidents like these. It is beastly fighting, but it really seems as if the worse and more testing the conditions the finer our men show themselves.
Happily at the moment there seems promise of an improvement in the weather. No rain has fallen since yesterday noon. The sky is clear of clouds and a keen autumn tang is in the air, making excellent drying weather, which seems to hold promise of lasting. The artillery has been very active, not only during the day, but through the long moonlit night, and so great was the noise last night, both on earth and in the air, that it was not easy, even well behind the lines, to sleep.
LATER
I have just learned that in the shelling, the noise of which I heard this morning, of a peaceful village well behind our lines the Germans killed two small school-children and wounded several other civilians, doing no military damage.
https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/a-lumber-camp-in-the-highlands-k2050kpnj?CMP=TNLEmail_118918_2100145&MN=26.07.2017%20Newfoundland%20(1)
A lumber camp in the Highlands
The rough wooden huts of the men, and the simple, effective machinery, do not seem to belong to an old civilization like ours. Planted down here, one might imagine that you were in Newfoundland
September 25, 1917
Craig of the Goats, Perthshire. A century ago, John, fourth Duke of Atholl, resolved to plant the waste mountain sides of his estates with spruce and larch by the million. By the end of the century, said he, his descendants would reap a hundredfold what he had sown. The Napoleonic wars had taught Britain what scarcity of timber meant.
“My plantations,” he declared, “will make up and probably be productive of an income to a much greater amount than that of any subject in the Kingdom.” He said confidently that if one-fourth part of his larches arrived at maturity by the end of the century they would supply “all the demands of Great Britain for war or commerce.”
He planted 15,573 acres, mainly of barren mountainside, with 27,431,600 young trees. Many other northern landowners followed hIs lead.
For long Duke John’s expectations seemed likely to be falsified. Great storms blew down hundreds of thousands of trees. The price of timber fell. The wooden ship on which he had based his plans made way for the iron ship. As cheap rail and ocean transport developed, our timber merchants revelled in the loot of the vast virgin forests of Canada, the United States and Scandinavia. British forests, like British farms, could no longer compete in their own home markets against this flood of foreign imports.
Yet today his foresight is proving true. The great forests of Scotland. utilized mainly during the last two generations as shooting preserves, have suddenly become an enormously valuable Imperial asset. Timber must be had in vast quantities for a hundred war purposes. We cannot import it. We must now perforce rely on the resources of our own island. Scotland is supplying more than its share. Men from the ends of the Empire are in the North today, clearing the hills, felling and dispatching their giant trees with the expedition of a Western lumber camp. Most of them are not Westerners, however, but Easterners, men from Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, together with hundreds of picked Newfoundland lumbermen, wearing khaki and serving under military discipline. To the North there hris come a sturdy batch of New Englanders.
THE LUMBER CHUTE
This is a Newfoundland camp on the Atholl estate. A few days ago the Duchess of Atholl, after entertaining a party of woodmen guests, confessed that, while shc was glad to see them and hoped to see more of them her heart was heavy at the disappearance of her beloved woods. One can understand her grief. Here, up on the Craigvinean, the Craig of Goats, as it is rightly called, 800ft above the sea level, one gazes around upon what was one of the most beautiful wooded scenes in Scotland. In the immediate neighbourhood are grouped a succession of fallen giants - great, noble timber. Some distance below a lumber camp can be seen. Along the steep middle ridge of the hillside runs a temporary mountain railway, built with lightning speed to transport the logs to the point where the great chute, 1,400ft long, falls vertically, down which the thousands of great felled trunks - often more than half a ton in weight - slide thundering to the mill below. This mill has been completed in incredibly short time, and the whole place has an air of bustling resolution. The rough wooden huts of the men, and the simple, effective machinery, do not seem to belong to an old civilization like ours. Planted down here, one might imagine that you were in Newfoundland. In truth, Newfoundland has transferred its ways to the heart of Perthshire.
“These men work as though they are fighting against time,” said an old Scottish factor somewhat resentfully, when he saw the Newfoundlanders set to. “We are,” came the ready reply. “That is what we are here for, in war time.” At first the Scotch woodsmen were inclined to feel sore at the unconventional methods of these newcomers, and various big challenges were exchanged. The cutting-down of trees is a solemn affair. It ought to be done with a certain stateliness. It ought above all to be done sparingly, and with a certain nicety according to estate traditions. That is the old British idea. But here are men doing it wholesale, leaving nothing behind.
It was necessary to find a means of carrying the great trees down from the high levels, 1,800ft in all. Experienced local men advised a mountain railway equipped with winding drum and steel cables, &c, which would have taken considerable time to construct, and would have cost something probably running into four figures. The Newfoundlanders laid a simple chute, consisting of a triple line of trunks of trees forming a kind of running trough. The total cost of this, apart from the timber, which they cut on the spot, was a few score of pounds. Down this simple line, built in a few days by the men themselves, with a sloping curve at the bottom to bring the monster logs easily to their place, the great trees now descend. They come to rest in the “Log Pond,” which has been built by damming the little stream which adjoins the sawmill in the meadow at the foot of the hill, and from thence are hoisted by the jack ladders into the mill.
HOW THE NEWFOUNDLANDERS CAME
How have the Newfoundlanders come to Perthshire? Lumbering on a large scale is comparatively a new thing in Newfoundland itself. The timber growths of the Tenth Island lay mostly unappreciated until, less than half a generation ago, the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company started its work at Grand Falls. In the spring of this year, when signs of a timber famine threatened, Mr Mayson Beeton, of the Anglo-Newfoundland Company, suggested to Sir Edward Morris, the Prime Minister of Newfoundland, that a battalion of Newfoundland lumbermen might be organized for timber-cutting here. The suggestion came at the right moment, for on the previous day Mr Long had written to Sir Edward Morris, asking for help of this kind. Mr Beeton, with the Premier and the Director of Timber Supplies, at once went to Lord Derby. Within 24 hours the scheme for the Newfoundland Forestry Corps was arranged. Cables were set to work and recruiting had begun. The organization and direction of the Newfoundlanders being left in Mr Beeton’s hands.
The men now at work so far number about 300, to be increased very shortly, it is hoped, with fresh drafts coming along to about 1,000. The personnel of the corps is remarkable. The officers, including Major Sullivan, the OC, are all of them practical lumbermen, save perhaps the Adjutant, whose business it is to maintain military administration and discipline. No man is accepted for the Forestry Corps unless he is unfit for fighting, or is well over his early manhood, married and with a family. One veteran of over 60, a general utility man, boasts of 40 years’ experience in mills. Another has been nearly 60 years lumbering. There are boys in their mid-teens here, too young to go to France to fight, but determined to do something to help to win the war. On Sunday afternoons one sees the forestry men making friends with the country folk in every village around, looking in every way smart, good soldiers. And when their battalion marches into Dunkeld it is difficult to believe that these same well-set ranks are made up of backwoodsmen who have volunteered their service from the freest life in the world - the life of the woods.
They have received a warm Scots welcome from all from duke to cottager. The country around the Craig of the Goats is as wildly beautiful as any Scotland has to show. The trees are magnificent, the lumber has been well cared for. The trees run straight and true and high. The axemen talk of some of the timber lovingly, as a connoisseur would talk of fine wine. There was one spruce tree whose main trunk was over 100ft long. It was 29in in diameter at the stump, and 15in in diameter 53ft high. They got 97ft of timber out of it. The woodsmen count the rings on the trees to tell their years, 90, 98, 100, 105 years old. Duke John planted well!
Even while the Newfoundlanders are cutting down great stretches of the most beautiful countryside large numbers of young Scots women are at work planting new districts afresh, for Scottish landowners realize that under the conditions likely to prevail in the world for some generations ahead their forests will be sources of essential national wealth.
“My plantations,” he declared, “will make up and probably be productive of an income to a much greater amount than that of any subject in the Kingdom.” He said confidently that if one-fourth part of his larches arrived at maturity by the end of the century they would supply “all the demands of Great Britain for war or commerce.”
He planted 15,573 acres, mainly of barren mountainside, with 27,431,600 young trees. Many other northern landowners followed hIs lead.
For long Duke John’s expectations seemed likely to be falsified. Great storms blew down hundreds of thousands of trees. The price of timber fell. The wooden ship on which he had based his plans made way for the iron ship. As cheap rail and ocean transport developed, our timber merchants revelled in the loot of the vast virgin forests of Canada, the United States and Scandinavia. British forests, like British farms, could no longer compete in their own home markets against this flood of foreign imports.
Yet today his foresight is proving true. The great forests of Scotland. utilized mainly during the last two generations as shooting preserves, have suddenly become an enormously valuable Imperial asset. Timber must be had in vast quantities for a hundred war purposes. We cannot import it. We must now perforce rely on the resources of our own island. Scotland is supplying more than its share. Men from the ends of the Empire are in the North today, clearing the hills, felling and dispatching their giant trees with the expedition of a Western lumber camp. Most of them are not Westerners, however, but Easterners, men from Ontario, Quebec, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia, together with hundreds of picked Newfoundland lumbermen, wearing khaki and serving under military discipline. To the North there hris come a sturdy batch of New Englanders.
THE LUMBER CHUTE
This is a Newfoundland camp on the Atholl estate. A few days ago the Duchess of Atholl, after entertaining a party of woodmen guests, confessed that, while shc was glad to see them and hoped to see more of them her heart was heavy at the disappearance of her beloved woods. One can understand her grief. Here, up on the Craigvinean, the Craig of Goats, as it is rightly called, 800ft above the sea level, one gazes around upon what was one of the most beautiful wooded scenes in Scotland. In the immediate neighbourhood are grouped a succession of fallen giants - great, noble timber. Some distance below a lumber camp can be seen. Along the steep middle ridge of the hillside runs a temporary mountain railway, built with lightning speed to transport the logs to the point where the great chute, 1,400ft long, falls vertically, down which the thousands of great felled trunks - often more than half a ton in weight - slide thundering to the mill below. This mill has been completed in incredibly short time, and the whole place has an air of bustling resolution. The rough wooden huts of the men, and the simple, effective machinery, do not seem to belong to an old civilization like ours. Planted down here, one might imagine that you were in Newfoundland. In truth, Newfoundland has transferred its ways to the heart of Perthshire.
“These men work as though they are fighting against time,” said an old Scottish factor somewhat resentfully, when he saw the Newfoundlanders set to. “We are,” came the ready reply. “That is what we are here for, in war time.” At first the Scotch woodsmen were inclined to feel sore at the unconventional methods of these newcomers, and various big challenges were exchanged. The cutting-down of trees is a solemn affair. It ought to be done with a certain stateliness. It ought above all to be done sparingly, and with a certain nicety according to estate traditions. That is the old British idea. But here are men doing it wholesale, leaving nothing behind.
It was necessary to find a means of carrying the great trees down from the high levels, 1,800ft in all. Experienced local men advised a mountain railway equipped with winding drum and steel cables, &c, which would have taken considerable time to construct, and would have cost something probably running into four figures. The Newfoundlanders laid a simple chute, consisting of a triple line of trunks of trees forming a kind of running trough. The total cost of this, apart from the timber, which they cut on the spot, was a few score of pounds. Down this simple line, built in a few days by the men themselves, with a sloping curve at the bottom to bring the monster logs easily to their place, the great trees now descend. They come to rest in the “Log Pond,” which has been built by damming the little stream which adjoins the sawmill in the meadow at the foot of the hill, and from thence are hoisted by the jack ladders into the mill.
HOW THE NEWFOUNDLANDERS CAME
How have the Newfoundlanders come to Perthshire? Lumbering on a large scale is comparatively a new thing in Newfoundland itself. The timber growths of the Tenth Island lay mostly unappreciated until, less than half a generation ago, the Anglo-Newfoundland Development Company started its work at Grand Falls. In the spring of this year, when signs of a timber famine threatened, Mr Mayson Beeton, of the Anglo-Newfoundland Company, suggested to Sir Edward Morris, the Prime Minister of Newfoundland, that a battalion of Newfoundland lumbermen might be organized for timber-cutting here. The suggestion came at the right moment, for on the previous day Mr Long had written to Sir Edward Morris, asking for help of this kind. Mr Beeton, with the Premier and the Director of Timber Supplies, at once went to Lord Derby. Within 24 hours the scheme for the Newfoundland Forestry Corps was arranged. Cables were set to work and recruiting had begun. The organization and direction of the Newfoundlanders being left in Mr Beeton’s hands.
The men now at work so far number about 300, to be increased very shortly, it is hoped, with fresh drafts coming along to about 1,000. The personnel of the corps is remarkable. The officers, including Major Sullivan, the OC, are all of them practical lumbermen, save perhaps the Adjutant, whose business it is to maintain military administration and discipline. No man is accepted for the Forestry Corps unless he is unfit for fighting, or is well over his early manhood, married and with a family. One veteran of over 60, a general utility man, boasts of 40 years’ experience in mills. Another has been nearly 60 years lumbering. There are boys in their mid-teens here, too young to go to France to fight, but determined to do something to help to win the war. On Sunday afternoons one sees the forestry men making friends with the country folk in every village around, looking in every way smart, good soldiers. And when their battalion marches into Dunkeld it is difficult to believe that these same well-set ranks are made up of backwoodsmen who have volunteered their service from the freest life in the world - the life of the woods.
They have received a warm Scots welcome from all from duke to cottager. The country around the Craig of the Goats is as wildly beautiful as any Scotland has to show. The trees are magnificent, the lumber has been well cared for. The trees run straight and true and high. The axemen talk of some of the timber lovingly, as a connoisseur would talk of fine wine. There was one spruce tree whose main trunk was over 100ft long. It was 29in in diameter at the stump, and 15in in diameter 53ft high. They got 97ft of timber out of it. The woodsmen count the rings on the trees to tell their years, 90, 98, 100, 105 years old. Duke John planted well!
Even while the Newfoundlanders are cutting down great stretches of the most beautiful countryside large numbers of young Scots women are at work planting new districts afresh, for Scottish landowners realize that under the conditions likely to prevail in the world for some generations ahead their forests will be sources of essential national wealth.
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