CONCERNING Lawn PLANTING. By y CALVERT: VAUX AND SAMUEL PARSONS) -J’R. NEW YORK: ORANGE JUDD COMPANY, 751 BROADWAY. 1881. Entered according to the Act of Congress, 1881, by ORANGE JUDD COMPANY, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. INTRODUCTION. The brief essays embraced in this volume have been prepared with the view of advancing the standard of landscape architecture in the United States. Some of them have already appeared in the | Christian Union and the New York 77rzbune. PABLEY OF CONTENTS. SKY AND SKY LINE : i ; ; Co VAGX. My Fritnp THE ANDROMEDA ; : S. PARSONS, JR. NATURE/AND ART IN LAWN PLANTING + : C2 VAUX. DESCRIPTION OF My Door YARD IN FLUSHING S. PARSONS, JR. THE PARKS AND GARDENS OF PARIS : ; C. Vaux. Mr. Hupnut’s TERRACE GARDEN. ; S. Parsons, JR. THE CENTRAL PARK : : : : C. Vaux PLANT CABINETS ; 1 , ? S. PARSONS, JR- How a Ducxk-Ponpb BECAME A LAKE : S. Parsons, JR. A NATURAL PARK AT NIAGARA b : Det NU ANUERe: SKY AND SKY LINE. A MAN who owns an acre of ground cannot look far without reaching its lateral boundaries, but in the direction of the sky, his acre gives him a wide extent of view that constitutes a valuable property. On the open sea, the sky is visible clear to the horizon; while, from an acre of average ground, the view is more or less restricted. Nevertheless, observation will show that over half the sky can be seen from any average acre; and that as its appearance is con- stantly changing, it becomes practically an almost boundless pic- torial possession to a sympathetic observer, for the light and color of the sky is the controlling element of beauty in every attractive landscape. By most persons, a tree is conceived as a definite and inde- pendent fact of nature, its relation to the sky being considered accidental and comparatively unimportant; but the human eye can hardly help taking in both at the same moment, and really gets a general impression that is quite unconsciously made up of both. . The landscape painter is trained to see the color relations of each to the other, and pays habitual attention to such combina- tions. ‘To him the sky is constantly visible, asserting itself as a fact more positive even than the objects in front of it. The typi- cal landscape painter may be said, indeed, to observe the aspects, rather than the forms of nature. He is fascinated by some effect of light and shade and color, that depends on a particular season of the year, or the sunlight and atmosphere of some special hour of a day. To this he is attracted in connection with a group of harmonious lines; and he sees and paints his beautiful picture, which is, in fact, devoted to the illustration of a passing moment of time. In every sensitive observer this co-ordinating faculty of the landscape painter is somewhat active, although it does not seek expression through the hand. The lover of pictures is properly complementary to the painter of pictures; and the art of lawn planting appeals directly to this delicate capacity in the human eye 8 to blend foreground and middle distance, sky line and sky, into one harmonious, optical impression. Separate groups of tree forms may be in themselves attractive, or a country place may be rich in handsome isolated specimens of trees, or for its varied and pic- turesque foreground shrubbery; but in each case it will be defec- tive asa landscape composition if it fails in its sky line, and is consequently unattractive when seen in connection with the sky. _ It is evident, therefore, that in laying out a country place, large or small, with reference to its landscape attractions, the present and prospective sky /ine is one element of design that needs very skillful attention, MY FRIEND THE ANDROMEDA. I po not know why it is, but the appearance of a tree frequently presents itself to my mind in a semi-personal, or I might almost say human way. This is fanciful, no doubt, but only another instance of the facility with which the mind clothes simple objects of the senses with its own less simple drapery of the imagination. Asso- ciation of ideas may, perhaps, account for it. When a tree is graceful, slender or drooping, we think immediately of womanly metaphors, like the poet’s epithet of “Lady of the Woods,” as applied to the Birch; and I fail to see any objection to such an innocent misconception. It not only pleases without doing harm to any one, but it does more. Such an attitude of mind tends to develop a more sympathetic consideration and study of plants under varying conditions. Horses, dogs, and even some comparatively worthless human beings, gain and have gained, dur- ing all time, much of this sympathetic consideration. May we not, in its humble sphere of life, plead a similar claim for the tree? Every member of the lawn affords us a more profound and lasting impression, viewed from this seemingly fanciful standpoint of so- called personal sympathy, than if we keep ourselves resolutely realistic in our feelings. I assure you, gentle reader, results will prove that the encouragement of these scientifically inaccurate vagaries of the imagination is neither bad for the tree nor the man, nor even for science. My thoughts are disporting themselves ° somewhat after this manner to-day, while my attention rests mus- ingly on a lovely specimen of an Andromeda arborea, or Sorrel tree. The October sun and air enrich and strengthen its tints and outline, and, in more than one way, its beauty arouses the most palpable feelings of pleasure. To most observers, indeed, it may be only a bright-leaved tree; but to me, as I look at it, come still fairer images and associations. I remember many a morning before this one when I have looked with pleasure on this tree. Last summer, in July, and August even, I used to enjoy its white-tasseled flowers, bending and delicately graceful as those of any hot-house plant. I insisted then on point- ing it out to my friends with, perhaps, what they felt to be the mere pride of ownership; and was wont to declare that here was a tree that not only bore lovely flowers, when scarcely another tree was so adorned, but that also proved good in color and attractive in form throughout the season. One of the few plants that neither paled its shining green, nor lost its firmness of leaf texture from May to October. On these occasions I was apt, on very slight provocation, to grow warm in praise of my Andromeda. It was everything that was lovely. The leaves were always shining and gracefully curving. Bark and twigs were refined and attractive in texture, coloring and picturesque contour. In every way this plant was full of beauty as pleasing as that of its August flowers. Several sober, matter-of- fact friends have, I know, smiled from time to time at my enthu- siasm on the subject of this Andromeda. But what matters that? It is only their loss that they are unable to see with my eyes; and, in one sense, my gain. The charms of a flower are, to the pos- sessor, rather increased than otherwise by the sense that few people have the wit to appreciate them; but it is a little selfish, I know, to feel thus, although entirely human, and I am trying to make my peace with conscience by enlarging on the topic to-day. Truly, this brisk October morning, as I am dwelling on the lovely crimson color of my favorite, bright with sunlight and dew, and adorned with pendent seed vessels, I am disposed to doubt whether my enthusiasm, in all its fullness, has not been after all somewhat crude and unappreciative. Notwithstanding its evident excellence, it occurs to me now that this plant has beauty that is still greater than commonly appears, because it is so seldom suit- ably employed. It is not, like your oak or beech, sufficient unto IO itself in its isolated grandeur; but it is a tree that needs associa- tion to develop its highest possibilities of attraction. Like some rich beauty, whose loveliness is stimulated and brought out by the charms of other forms and faces, to pale again when left alone or neglected; or like the gifted and witty mind that needs the sym- pathy of kindred spirits to put it on its mettle, the Andromeda silently craves to be artistically disposed and grouped with other plants. I comprehend this morning, seemingly for the first time, that my Andromeda, my dear Andromeda, is ungainly. A crooked, slender stem, though, in a certain way, fine and picturesque, sup- ports its graceful mass of foliage in a decidedly unsatisfactory way. Surely this plant was not made to stand alone. On the contrary, I am inclined to think it decidedly affects society. Next spring, therefore, I am going to keep it in the conspicuous position it now occupies, but, at the same time, make it happy by surrounding it with friends and relatives. A mass of rhododendrons shall cluster in its rear, for they show a fine relation to the Andromeda in both appearance and nature; and they are, moreover, rich and noble plants. These rhododendrons, in the outline of their grouping, will present deep bays and promontories of foliage, with points and flanks and bare places, masked with choice low-growing shrubs, like mahonias and evergreen thorns, the bush form of Chinese wistarias, and the golden and variegated weigela. My Andromeda shall not appear exactly on one of the points of these rhododen- drons, to which its leaves bear too close a relation for intimate grouping; but it shall be isolated and, at the same time, surrounded and connected with the mainland of foliage by the mahonias and evergreen thorns. The weak parts of the base of my plant will be thus masked, as so many plants apt to develop naked bases need to be masked, and its more excellent qualities brought out in finest relief by its association. Several years hence, perhaps, I may be looking at my Andro- meda, in its new position, as I am looking at it now, and, I am sure, in that case, it will comport itself with greater dignity and grace than it has ever done aforetime. Its crimson tints will seem richer when relieved against the shining green of the mahonias and rhododendrons; and its naturally taller form will rise with more striking and harmonious effect from amid the broad spreading masses of adjacent greenery. And why should I not give fitting en companions to my fair Andromeda? It is to me of greater value than my pictures, and yet I rehang and regroup my pictures with the greatest care. Certainly, sympathy of this sort is not wasted on plants, which should be treated as sensitive children that need to be deeply influenced in the best way by sympathetic personal comprehension and care. NATURE AND ART IN LAWN PLANTING. AN imitation of nature, however successful, is not art; and the purpose to imitate nature, or to produce an effect which shall seem to be natural, and therefore interesting, is not sufficient for success in the art of lawn planting, which depends on a happy combination of many circumstances that nature, unassisted, is not likely to bring about. A scene in nature is made up of various parts; each part has its individual character and its possible ideal. It is unlikely that acci- dent should bring together the best possible ideals of each separate part, merely considering them as ‘isolated facts; and it is still more unlikely that accident should group a number of these possible ideals in such a way that not only one or two, but that all should be harmoniously related one to the other. It is evident, however, that an attempt to accomplish this artificially is not impossible, and that a proper study of the circumstances relating to the perfect de- velopment of each particular detail will, at least, enable the designer to reckon surely on a certain success of a high character in that detail, and a comprehensive bringing together of the results of his study in regard to the harmonious relations of one, two or more details may enable him to discover the law of harmonious relation between multitudinous details; and if he can discover it, there is nothing to prevent him from putting it into practice. The result would be a work of art; and the combination of the art thus de- fined, with the art of architecture, in the production of landscape compositions, is what may properly be denominated landscape architecture. 12 . DESCRIPTION OF MY DOOR YARD IN FLUSHING. My lawn, strictly speaking, is but a door yard of fifty by one hundred feet in extent, of which a considerable portion is occupied by the house and paths. It derives its only right to the name of lawn, from the fact that it is constructed on the same general prin- ciples as would apply to a place of several acres. I do not mean that such principles should never be modified, but that, in the main, they must be adhered to on every well-planted lawn. First of all, my place cannot help possessing in its way the gen- eral qualities of a picture, although a cabinet picture, to be sure, if its surface is compared with larger lawns. There is here, as elsewhere, first the foreground, then the middle distance, and, be- hind all, the background. The possible lights and shadows of the lawn picture were studied at the outset, and special points made emphatic. I have looked upon the nearest approach to velvety turf I can get in this climate as an excellent canvas on which to paint with lovely plant color and form. Everywhere the exist- ence of this charming groundwork is kept in full view by retain- ing broad open stretches. On such spots shifting effects of sun- light and shadow have free play, and we gain that restful sensation which is somehow associated with green grass. Many think such a door yard as mine fit only for a few carelessly scattered plants, an uninteresting arbor vite, and, perhaps, a neglected bed of cole- uses and geraniums. Every one, however, must be influenced by his individual taste and temperament. I really cannot help choos- ing to treat my door yard or lawn lovingly and thoughtfully, and if I have failed asa painter in more than one respect, I have not failed to obtain a really choice collection of plants grouped so as not to injure each other. The plants are perfect specimens, individually, as far as may be, but I have also sought to avoid primness and inartistic formality. On my front porch or piazza, covered with two kinds of honey- suckles, one notices also two Virginia creepers and two Wistarias. I have one path directly to my gate, fifteen feet distant. There is nothing else in the way of paths about the place, except a narrow side entrance passage, between the fence and house, leading to the back door. The house is placed on the extreme east side of the lot, a location that does not give the best exposure for my planta- hy tions. I have, therefore, in this case, set out a number of ever- greens on the north and west, to suggest coziness and give actual protection from cold and wind. The feeling of seclusion is pro- vided for along the street, not by a edge which, as generally un- derstood, is a formal and unnatural thing, but by an 7rregular line. of choice, medium-sized evergreens four or five feet apart. Among these are such varieties as the golden Japan cypress, pic- turesque, soft and glowing with color; the broad-leaved hemlock, dark and statuesque; the Grecian silver fir, exquisite in early growth; and the dainty sprays of the fountain-like weeping hem- lock. The remainder of the front line, and a small part of the west side of the place, is taken up by an irregularly planted group of somewhat larger choice evergreens. An irregular shelter is thus obtained in the coldest quarter, and a strong emphasis given to an important part of the place. In the northwest corner stands the conical, almost columnar, form of the bluish green Swiss stone pine, at once making a strong feature in the nght spot, and vary- ing the sky line of fringing plantations. All around the place these important points are marked by some suitable form of tree. On each side of the front gate, for instance, are two spireas Thun- bergii, with their lovely foliage softening the stiff perpendicular lines of the posts, and making picturesque and graceful the entrance which is usually prosaically formal. The general character of the plantations of my place are en- tirely fringing, there being no room for single plants, except in nooks of the house, if we are to allow due space to open turf. We have thus an irregular line of evergreens in front of the house, and then the protecting mass of similar plants in the northwest corner. Among the last, besides the stone pine, may be noted the majestic, symmetrical Nordmann’s fir; the feathery, graceful sprays of the retinospora obtusa, and the greyish blue of the strange-looking glaucous juniper (Juniperus glauca) and the retinospora squar- rosa. On the inner line of this mass are found more dwarf varie- ties, such as the glowing and exquisite hardy azalea, the grand flowers and foliage of the rhododendron, and the miniature ever- greens like Gregory’s spruce, dwarf black spruce, dwarf silver fir and dwarf pines. Properly speaking, this is the foreground of the picture made up of the choicest material in the way of plant color and form, with the specially protecting effect that evergreens supply. I can 14 suggest no simpler, and perhaps better, method for selecting the best positions for the individuals of a group of either evergreen or deciduous shrubs and trees than the following: Define, in a general way, the outline of your group, which should be easy and flowing; then step here and there, within the prescribed boundaries, in en- tirely irregular fashion, with paces three or four feet in length. At the point where each step falls, there set your plants, retaining in a general way the lower individuals on the outside. It is weil to dis- tribute also some of the smaller shrubs throughout the body of the plantation, in order to avoid the abhorrent clump form. Looking beyond this foreground of predominating evergreens down along the fence, you will recognize the more exquisite mate- rial of the foreground, running into and characterizing the nearest part of the still choice material of the middle distance. On leaving the evergreens, we notice first a little group of three Japanese maples, for groups to be picturesque should consist only of odd numbers. These, as well as most Japanese maples, are dwarf trees rather than shrubs, and are dyed with many colors. Here is a leaf suffused with living gold; there, on another plant, a color that might be Tyrian purple, for nothing of the kind could be richer. On still another leaf are the various colors of rose, pink, green, white and yellow. As to the forms, they are still more varied, even at times on the same plant; the most remarkable having leaves divided like veritable lace. Skirting along the fence, and beyond these clusters of dwarf hardy maples, into the distinct province of deciduous shrubs, we find the lovely pink flowering Japan Judas tree and the Japan snowball, with rich foliage and large persistent balls of flowers. Here is the exquisite deutzia gracilis; the golden spirea, studded in June with white flowers; and the feathery sprays of the strange-looking tamarisk, beaded with flowers in July and August, when we have few plants in bloom. All the way down and around the board fence that covers the flank and rear of my lot extend these flowering deciduous shrubs, generally four feet apart, and abounding in a series of blooms throughout the summer. The larger ones are, of course, planted in the rear and along the fence, but occasionally, two or three plants removed from the fence line, are low-growing varieties, intended to create the picturesque effect of bays and points of foliage, amid a seeming lake of emerald turf. In either corner of the rear of the lot larger trees are planted, to give more emphasis to special points ) as well as more variety of sky line, a horsechestnut on one side, away from the house; and, on the other, a cluster of two maples and a liquidambar for the enjoyment of autumnal color. It should be evident, from this brief sketch, that my principal endeavor has been to secure first, what I may term in this connec- tion, comfort and enjoyment for the plants in their personal rela- tions; and then, however imperfectly, picturesque effects in genuine, though miniature, fashion. My conviction has been that picturesqueness should be sought before everything else on the lawn, except the actual health of the plant; that picturesqueness which, in the eloquent phrase of Isaac ‘Taylor, claims as its own “the cherished and delicious ideas of deep seclusion, of lengthened, undisturbed continuance;” that “abhors the square, the perpen- dicular and horizontal;” that is, “in a word, the conservatism of landscape beauty, and suggestive of secure and placid longevity, domestic sanctity and reverence.” / THE PARKS AND GARDENS OF PARIS. THE improvements of the pleasure grounds and parkways of Paris, which now gives so much character to the\city, was initiated during the Empire, and has been quite generally credited to that form of Government, while failure elsewhere has been attributed to not being blessed with a Napoleon. It is, therefore, satisfac- tory to find that in the edition for 1878 of Robinson’s Notes on the Parks and Gardens of Paris, the author can tell us, by way of comment on this suggestion, that since the establishment of the Republic in France, improvements calculated to produce the best effects on the beauty and salubrity of Paris, have been carried out more vigorously than before, with this difference, that ,they are done more economically. Robinson, it seems, approached his subject at the outset from the strictly horticultural side, being »engaged by the Zzmes to make notes that might be helpful to England with reference to the culture of fruits and vegetables, in which the French excel, the Paris market gardens yielding threefold more produce than is gathered from a similar extent of garden ground elsewhere. He was probably as fit to make these observations as any other man that might have been selected, but he also showed a special aptitude 16 for the appreciation and description of the great system of public parks, parkways, and city gardens that have been formed within the last twenty years in Paris. In this department of his book he stands somewhat alone, and has rendered good service to the English- speaking public at a critical time, because his statements on the esthetic side grow out of wholesome artistic instincts, chastened by a cultivated taste, while they are evidently based on a sufficiently practical knowledge of the horticultural side of his subject. The keynote of his book is sounded at the outset in an attack on the needlessly dismal line and square system of planting that is commonly adopted by botanists in their gardens, and it is satisfac- tory to learn from so good a practical authority that there is no scientific reason for planting such a garden in the formal style, and that the expression of the beauty of the vegetable world is the proper work of a national botanic garden. The excellencies of the French landscape gardener’s concep- tion seem to be shown to the highest advantage in the public square or city garden, and the smaller it is the more apparent does the superiority of the Paris system become. Certainly, the Square of St. Jacques, with its grand old church tower in the center, deserves to be selected by Robinson as a typical example, for it has the in- explicable quality of attraction that belongs to works of the highest art, and transcends any street garden ideal that is likely to have been formed in the mind of a visitor who sees it for the first time. The Parc Monceau is an example of a larger city square. Rob- inson complains that it is slashed into four pieces by needless roads; but very few visitors will refuse to accept any reason the designer may have had for this arrangement, because it 1s so well done that the result is an agreeable one, and it may be looked at simply as a design for a public pleasure ground based on an ‘intersection of two necessary thoroughfares. Under such circumstances, the roads crossing the park, for which they give occasion, may be slightly curved, and a pleasant diversion of a straight line street system may thus be secured without any appreciable loss of time to the visitor who passes through the park in connection with his ordinary avocations. The only art that is so thoroughly well understood by the public as to be instinctively criticized by everybody is the art that provides a fresh newspaper decoration for our breakfast tables every morn- ing. The habit of being influenced by reading is, in fact, acquired 2 ©. ayeric Bi < SHERTER we ~" 3 = Grounos 50 SCALE of AS OF ee ES ee tg SSE ° oe a ier Mr. A. HUDNUT, AB ey BY 3° ORANGE, Vaux & Co. - 100 Ni. Jd. 17 ‘now-a-days so early in life, that it seems a natural instead of an artificial way to get information, and dull books are rejected almost automatically. Robinson has the pungent, readable quality that would make his work what is called successful, without special reference to its quality in other respects, and if its influence had been cast on the wrong side, morally or artistically, it would have been as decidedly felt for harm as it now is for good. His criticism is out-spoken and trenchant, but in the interests of the nobler aspects of the question. He does not, however, see clearly with the artist’s eye, or he would not choose to say, when bewailing a lost opportunity in his native city, “ This is not only sad, from its depriving us of so much beauty that London might possess, but also from its far more serious evil in the depreciation of property.” He misses it again, when, speaking of the art of landscape design, he says that “improvements will never come through architects, because their work is different, even in kind.” The kinship that he fails to see is, in a community of artistic aims, each desiring to build up a beautiful combination of forms and colors in the open air, in accordance with a pre-conceived design gradually developed out of common materials by the hand- labor of others, ‘The two arts are very close together in theory, and are destined in the future to be more closely allied in practice. In fact, the chief contribution that the French have made during the last twenty years has been in this direction. ‘They have shown how city architecture can be glorified by judicious planting, and how greensward and trees, shrubs and flowers, may be as pliant in the hands of an artistic designer as wood or stone. MR. HUDNUT’S TERRACE GARDEN. DuRING early boyhood, I paid long visits at the home of a dear old grandmother, in one of the most thoroughly crystalized towns of New England. Grandmother was a Quaker of the old school, and a pillar of the meeting, consequently everything about her was of the approved old-time sort. ‘The garden, certainly, was no ex- ception to the rule. I think I see now, the sober, dignified Quaker ladies, attired in suitable dove-color, pacing the garden walks or daintily plucking flowers. Surely, finer flowers never grew than 9 od 18 were reared in that garden, for the maintenance it received was ex- quisite. What sunny hours we children spent in it. And it was truly a charming spot, though something must be allowed for the glamour of boyish freshness and spirits. I feel, indeed, after see- ing all the modern inventions, that I could cheerfully forego the most blazing effects that we behold now-a-days on expensive lawns, for the privilege of enjoying once more the old garden behind grandmother’s house. I wish you could see the quaint old place as I recall it after the lapse of many years. It was, I confess, a some- what formal and prim affair ; but there was nothing commonplace or vulgar about it, as in the baser sort of what is now called rib- bon gardening. On the contrary, there was a distinct flavor of in- dividuality in the character of its appearance. ‘The designer, being either a practical housewife, or inspired by one, had thought of many things besides mere ornament, and even the ornament had a distinct difference, which gave this garden a special suggestiveness of its own. . The paths were laid out with entire regularity, and marked with long rows or borders of dwarf box; but there the regularity and same- ness ceased unless we count as regular the scrupulously kept gravel of the walks, bedded with white pebbles. Such a garden naturally had its grape-vine, trained on some suitable supports, which, in this case, happened to be the stable wall. The next-door neighbor, I remember, had an arbor for his grape-vines, that began, as it seemed, nowhere in particular, and ended twenty feet off, with the most de- lightful neglect of any why or wherefore, except that it existed for the grape-vine; that was evidently enough for Deacon Jones. Now- a-days such an arbor must have done duty alike as a place for seats, for a promenade, and also for the display of architectural ornament in the Queen Anne style. Not that such a triple per- formance of duty is not proper enough, but only it was not the way of gardens of those earlier days. For the economies of the house, there were all sorts of fragrant herbs, such as thyme, sweet-marjory, sage, mint, and half-a-dozen other sweet-smelling and savory plants, that were on this account, however, none the less attractive as ornaments of the garden. They were not only delightful in themselves, but delightful because they reminded us of grandmother’s wonderful store-closet, from which issued so many good things. But grandmother’s garden was, before all things, a productive a) flower-garden. Unlike modern gardens, created for external show alone, it was a real store-house of color and odor, out of which one could, day after day, gather rich treasures, and yet leave its beauty apparently undimmed. Everybody about the house, boys included, was welcome to pluck a flower occasionally without let or hindrance. The flowers, indeed, seemed actually to enjoy being plucked. They were not, of course, specially rare, and yet, I am sorry to say that it might be difficult to find some of them now-a-days. Their sim- ple charms have, in fact, been almost entirely obscured by the glit- tering novelties of the modern horticultural world. For instance, there were those rich old damask roses. They are seldom, if ever, seen now; and yet what masses of them there were in grandmoth- er’s garden, and how well I remember their rich color, and the de- lightful odor they exhaled when the dew was resting on their petals. Where shall we find now such beds of sweet-scented pinks, not car- nations, but real hardy pinks? Nowhere; for they are out of fash- ion now. Tall clusters of phloxes stood here and there. Blue larkspurs, tall, quaint and lovely, nodded above carpets of portu- laca vine, studded with scarlet flowers. Broad patches of the ram- pant-growing, gorgeous herbaceous peony were striking in effect, close by the straggling foliage and flowers of the sweet-pea. Great hollyhocks were there, too, with richly colored petals, the pure out- lines and decorative appearance of which fail not to charm the eye even now, amid the multitudinous resources of the modern gar- dener. Snowdrops, crocuses and other bulbs used to spring up as if by magic, year after year, in secluded spots of grandmother’s garden. Evidently no definite arrangement had been applied to any of these plants, but somehow they were seen to be greatly to the advantage of the general effect. All stood together, just as they happened to come, behind the borders of box, in the rich, weedless brown earth. How fresh that brown earth smelled as it was dug up in early spring! Of other climbers than the grape-vine there were few.. Wistarias, clematesis, and the long list of similar plants of the pres- ent day were little used then. Filling their place, in their own at- tractive way, were delicate morning-glories and graceful cypress vines, trained with some formality and with almost reverential care. But now comes in the question why I call up these memories,, and what they have to do with Mr. Hudnut’s terrace garden,. 20 of which a general plan is given in our illustration of his place. Certainly a family likeness may be recognized. At first, it may seem remote, and near views of elegant houses, done in modern style, and farther glimpses of picturesque hillsides may seem to have little kinship in appearance with the neat streets and walled yards of the quaint New England town where the garden I have been talking about, flourished. But if we look over the surroundings more critically, we may perhaps explain how grandmother’s garden has influenced the treat- ment of this design. Mr. Hudnut’s terrace garden is situated at the rear of the main building, on a hillside, out of which the site of the house itself has been excavated. The views from this building, of long stretches of lawn and varied masses of shrubbery, extending to the street, are pleasing, and the picturesque appearance of the house made us hesitate to doom the ground on its north side to the commonplace purposes of a vegetable garden. As the windows of the parlor have an outlook in this direction, it seems unfair to im- press the idea of long rows of beets and turnips upon the eye of a visitor, who must naturally enter this part of the house, after being agreeably impressed by the well-kept front lawn. ‘The place is only four acres in extent, and an owner, under the circumstances, can better afford to buy vegetables, or grow them on hired ground, than to sacrifice any portion of the possible daily feast for the eyes that can be secured if the outlook in every direction is made up of flowers, trees and greensward. Abandoning the idea of a vegetable garden, we endeavored to strike out a new line of treatment in- stead of ornamenting this particular spot with routine rugs of bed- ding plants, to be marshalled in and marshalled out by the fifty thousand every year; and we finally decided to construct, in place of a garden full of vegetables, or bedding stuff, a mixed border of hardy, flowering, herbaceous plants. Owing to the nature of the ground, and the requirements of drainage, we found it necessary to make two terraces, thus raising a plateau of land about one hundred feet square, somewhat above — the level of the parlor windows. This arrangement gives the owner a simple form of terrace gar- den, a name having quaint associations, dating back to Elizabethan times, It is necessarily formal in appearance, and therefore con- trasts with the general park-like aspect of the place. To secure unity of effect within itself, it is secluded completely by a border pea of deciduous flowering shrubbery, which has an exterior irregular- ity of outline that enables it to take its place in the general effect, when seen from the park-like lawn beyond. Immediately in front of the parlor windows, a four de force seems to be admissible—something that should be thoroughly iso- lated, and yet attached, as it were, to the lines of the building itself. In this case, it takes the form of a color mat, showing a salient, architectural design, clearly marked out, with rich-colored plants that only grow in one year, to a height of five or six inches, and therefore, in this case, numbering many thousands. Here are echeverias, altenantheras, pyrethrums, allysums, gnaphaliums and the like. The colors thus obtainable, are varieties of vivid green, yellow, red and white. In such a place, we believe that such de- signs are entirely warrantable. Ordinarily, we object to such elab- orate work as artificial, and troublesome to replant every year. Passing up the two flights of stone steps that ascend to the ter- races, with their intervening terrace walk, we come to the more in- dividual garden that we have attempted to arrange for the place. It consists of a square of green turf, with the corners cut to an octa- gonal line, and then a border of eight feet, for mixed hardy herba- ceous plants, lined on the farther side by walls of California privet and other deciduous shrubbery. At the base of the California priv- et, scarce two feet away, are planted deutzia gracilis and hyperi- cum Kalmianum (St. John’s wort), to mask, with their low, bushy foliage, the inevitable bareness of the larger piants at that point. On either corner of the grass plat, are tall urns for flowers, and on four keypoints of effect, still farther in, are tall clusters of the daz- zling white arundo donax variegata, or ribbon-grass, mingled with a blazing spike or two of the red hot poker plant (Tritoma uvaria grandiflora), the only tender varieties out of the vases to be found in the terrace garden proper. And now we mijy indicate the special points of resemblance in this design to what we have called my grandmother’s garden. They are to be found, principally, in the border of plants, eight feet wide, that skirts the entire grass plat. Each angle of this grass plat is cut off, making a large, eight-sided figure, with four long and four short sides.