THE 



JOUPiNAL OF RURAL ART AND RURAL TASTE. 



Vol. II. 



AUGUST, 1847. 



No. 2. 



A FEW MILES east of Boston, boldly jutting 

 into the Atlantic, lies the celebrated pro- 

 montory of Nahant. Nature has made it 

 remarkable for the grandeur and bleakness 

 of its position. It is a headland of an hun- 

 dred acres, more or less, sprinkled with a 

 light turf, and girded about with bold 

 cliffs of rock, against which the sea dashes 

 with infinite grandeur and majesty. No 

 tree anciently deigned to raise its head 

 against the rude breezes that blow here in 

 wintetj as if tempest-driven by Boreas him- 

 self; and that, even in summer, make, of 

 Nahant, with its many cottages and hotels, a 

 refrigerator, for the preservation of the dis- 

 solving souls and bodies of the exhausted 

 population of Boston, in the months of July 

 and August. 



At the present moment, the interest- 

 ing feature at Nahant, after the Ocean 

 itself, is, strange to say, one of the most 

 remarkable gardens in existence. We 

 mean the grounds of the private residence 

 of Frederic Tudor, Esq., a gentleman well 

 known in the four quarters of the world, as 

 the originator of the present successful mode 

 of shipping ice to the most distant tropical 

 countries ; and, we may here add, for the 

 remarkable manner in which he has again 

 Vol. n. 8 



triumphed over nature, by transforming 

 some acres of her bleakest and most sterile 

 soil into a spot of luxuriant verdure, fruit- 

 fulness and beauty. 



To appreciate the difficulties with which 

 this gentleman had to contend, or, as we 

 might more properly say, which stimulated 

 all his efforts, we must recall to mind that, 

 frequently, in high winds, the salt spray 

 drives over the whole of Nahant ; that, un- 

 til Mr. Tudor began his improvements, not 

 even a bush grew naturally on the whole 

 of its area, and that the east winds, which 

 blow from the Atlantic in the spring, are 

 sufficient to render all gardening possibili- 

 ties in the usual way nearly as chimerical 

 as cultivating the volcanoes of the moon. 



Mr. Tudor's residence there now, is a cu- 

 rious and striking illustration of the triumph 

 of art over nature, and as it involves some 

 points that we think most instructive to hor- 

 ticulturists, we trust he will pardon us for 

 drawing the attention of our readers to it 

 at the present time. Our first visit to his 

 grounds was made in July, 184-5, one of the 

 driest and most unfavorable seasons for the 

 growth of trees and plants that we remem- 

 ber. But at that time, perhaps, the best 

 possible one to test the merits of the mode 



