This is not a technical paper. It is merely a glimpse of the human interest side of forestry on the Iowa farm. Its roots run deep into the subsoil of the memory of other years. Its seed dates back to boyhood days in the virgin hardwood forest which fringed the banks of the east fork of the Des Moines River. Its lights and shadows of thought play about the dooryard of the little log cabin which an immigrant Irish boy built within the shelter of this timber on the homestead where he settled in 1859, and where he made his home with a girl-wife from New England and raised a family of fourteen children, twelve of whom are today citizen Americans.