LAWNS AND SHRUBBERY 125 



also refuses to take into account the beauty of a grass 

 spire five inches long. 



I want you to learn to appreciate the grass. It 

 is one of Nature's chief works. She tried her hand 

 at it again and again, as she did at making trees, and 

 whether it be stately timothy, or graceful bluegrass, 

 or daisy-crowded orchard grass, or the bunch grass 

 that grows by the creeks, or the great waving broom 

 grass of swamp lands, grass is always beautiful. In- 

 dian corn is only a superbly developed zea grass. I 

 do not believe that putting the razor to the face of 

 Nature every morning is any improvement. 



In the fall I find these little fancy lawns all about 

 the country, just about big enough for a city door- 

 yard, and men and women raking them clean of all 

 sweet-scented brown and scarlet leaves. The leaves 

 are burned and the grass is left to be frozen to the 

 core, so that reseeding will be necessary another 

 spring. I differ entirely with these country friends 

 about this matter. I would abolish the lawn-mower 

 in summer, letting the grass grow at least five or six 

 inches high before cutting. 



I would have it mowed with an old-fashioned 

 scythe, if you can find anybody still left who knows 

 how to swing it. Any boy or girl of commonsense 

 and decent muscle can quickly learn the old art, and 

 my word for it they will be glad. I question the 

 physical value to a boy or girl of pushing a lawn- 

 mower back and forth by the hour, while as an in- 

 tellectual operation it is a flat failure. 



