To the Editor of The Post - Sir: May I thank Mrs. Charles Edward Russell, whose letter appears in the january 6 issue of the The Post, for her bitter outcry against the cutting down of our glorious trees to make way for more roads?

The offices in which I am employed open on the Mall and during the five years I have been here I have rejoiced in a group of magnificent oaks just outside of our windows. One tree in particular blessedly shaded us through long summer days when the heat was intense. In winter its wide arms were held up to receive the rains and the winds from heaven so that its youth might be renewed with the coming of spring.

Near the base of this tree I kept a shallow bowl filled with water for the birds and squirrels that play hereabouts. One day a few brief weeks ago a group of men came up to "my" tree, kicked away the bird bath, and proceeded to hack down the great, beautiful oak. It had not one single dead twig or branch upon it. And now its place is marked by a stretch of grassless, hideous earth, like a scar left by a sickening disease.

Indeed I think the souls of men who permit the cutting down of our splendid trees are very sick. We who looked on at the slaughter of the oaks (a second one, not so nearly perfect as the larger tree, also fell under the ax) were sick at heart. Perhaps sentiment does lie back of people's grief for fallen trees, but can we afford to let go of our sentiments?