In all parts of the Western States are springing up towns that grow with great rapidity. Some of these are destined to rival the Atlantic cities in population and importance; many others will become second class towns of note, while a still greater proportion, though destined to an humbler rank, have still an equal interest with their more fortunate neighbors in attaining and preserving a character for pleasantness and beauty.

The sites of many of these towns are beautiful beyond description. Nature has spent centuries in growing and perfecting for their adornment the most graceful and most magnificent forest trees. She has diversified the surface with hill, and plain, and dell; she has sent sparkling rivulets among the woods, and festooned the trees with the ivy and the grape. The Oak, and the Elm, and the Maple, mingle their diverse beauties together, while modestly beneath their shade are to be found the less ambitious but scarcely less indispensable trees that are needed to complete the picture.

Unfortunately the founders of new towns are apt to be people who fail to appreciate sufficiently such beauties. They are men whose thoughts are bent upon speculation, and who find their highest and almost only enjoyment in the rapid acquisition of wealth. They call around them to build their houses, dig their canals, and construct their railroads, a population principally of needy emmigrants, transient persons, who go to and fro with the demand for labor, and who, having no permanent interest in the place, are only anxious while they remain in it to use as little as possible of their dollar a day in current expenses. Among such a population a tree is of no value, except as it may be turned into lumber or firewood. Robbery of the woods is universally esteemed fair plunder, and while the Yankee is stealing from the forest its best timber, the Irish and the German laborer is cutting his fuel from the remainder, with an equal disregard of titles and of division lines.

During the present season I have occasionally spent some time in the outskirts of the town from which I write, and which is a sample of many such places. But although it has suffered severely in the manner alluded to, it is not yet so unfortunate but that, if the evil be now checked, a considerable portion of its natural adornments will remain. The front of the town is already denuded of its trees, but elsewhere, in the direction of its growth, and in close proximity to its building, are still to be found forest trees in great variety. Magnificent Oaks - the growth of centuries - have stationed themselves at little intervals in all directions about the city. These Oaks, if properly appreciated, are invaluable; for they give us, ready grown, such grand old shade trees, as generations must wait for from our own planting.

A younger growth of Oaks in great variety is also here to be met with. The White, the Red, the Black, the White Swamp, the Scarlet-leaved, the Chestnut, the Willow-leaved, and perhaps other varieties that do not now occur to me, are here to be met with, and a selection of foreign trees could scarcely be made that would give greater beauty to a place than this family of Oaks. These trees are young and thrifty, and have sprung up since the Indians were driven from their hunting grounds hereabouts, before which time the young growth was kept down by an annual burning-over of the openings.

Here also are to be occasionally found the Sugar and the Scarlet-flowering Maple, and the graceful Elm is scarcely ever out of sight The Buckeye is also frequent; the Honey Locust throws out its long, thorny branches on all sides; the Aspen is to be seen in the neighborhood of the stately Ash, and now and then a Mulberry, with the Black Walnut, the Butternut, the Plane, and the Linden, complete the picture. No! not complete it, for the Hickories are all about us - rugged and sturdy, but full of unpolished beauty, and deserving all the better care in their preservation where they have planted themselves, because of the impossibility of transplanting them. The Buttonwood, the Tulip tree, and the Willow, are also to be found in particular localities, and the Glossy-leaved Thorn, the Dog-wood, the Cherry, the Balm of Gilead, and the Sassafras in others. The Red Cedar, that once grew along the banks of the Maumee, has unfortunately been already exterminated, and the lovers of rural beauty mourn its departure as that of a cherished friend.

But the list already given is sufficient to show how profusely and variously the ornaments of nature still adorn this neighborhood.

A proper degree of care on the part of the citizens, and the protection by the city authorities of the trees standing along new streets, would give to a town thus naturally favored, a plesant character and appearance that few places ever attain - and that, too, with little trouble and less expense. It is not necessary to plant, but only to select and save. Every citizen may build his house under the shade of noble forest trees, and every street may be lined with them in considerable variety, and of all sizes.

It seems a matter of surprise that such advantages fail to be appreciated; but it is very commonly the case that the forest trees are all cut away before the inhabitants take a thought about shade trees. This is about as reasonable as cutting off a beautiful head of hair to make way for a wig. In Adrian, Mich., a place now unsurpassed in the horticultural taste of its inhabitants, scarcely a tree can be found standing along the streets where it originally grew. The noble Oaks, and Elms, and Hickories that were found upon its site, have been levelled with the earth, and its citizens are now lamenting the bereavement, and waiting impatiently the slow growth of those they have planted. The last of the Elms that I now recollect to have seen growing in its streets, was cut down by a street overseer, who chanced to have occasion for brush in filling up a ravine. It was a fine tree, and not a few felt hurt and indignant at its destruction; but the road-master saw no value in it, except as he could make its branches useful in preventing the washing out of earth from the street.

In the towns which, though injured, are not yet so bady defaced - and there are many such - it is to be hoped that a different policy will prevail. Proprietors ought to guard their trees with far more vigilance than they would their money, because they are far less quickly replaced. Town authorities ought sedulously to protect avenue trees, not only as a means of rendering their place pleasant to its inhabitants, but also because the beauty of the town is a part of its wealth, and has an extensive influence in attracting capital and valuable citizens to it If he who plants trees is a public benefactor, how much more so is he who preserves those already grown, and which, for a long time, will be far more valuable than any which he might plant.

It is to be hoped that this subject will attract more attention at the West than it has hitherto received, and that our new towns, while so rapidly attaining strength, will preserve, in some degree, that comliness which nature designed for them.