THE COUNTRY YARD 



every house being separated from its neighbor 

 by a party wall, and plumping itself as full upon 

 the highway as it dares; yet along the front of 

 these dwellings runs the merest strip of soil, 

 curbed away from the walk, and showing, 

 through the summer, a mass of fine, old-fash- 

 ioned bloom. This communal park, which is, 

 maybe, a foot and a half wide, masks, or rather 

 softens, the quaint buildings, and gives to them 

 a pecuhar picturesqueness. The effect would be 

 worth copying if we built and bedded that way, 

 but in America we are doing better: we are 

 taking down our fences and converting wide dis- 

 tricts into a continuous garden. The newer parts 

 of the beautiful city of Hartford are a revelation 

 of what may be accomplished by a community 

 that has civic spirit, good taste and good neigh- 

 borship. On the edge of the town even the trol- 

 ley posts are half hid in vines, and one of the 

 ugliest incidents of our streets is thus converted 

 to charm. 



It is not everywhere that the fence can be 



abolished. In a visit to a socialist community 



in Illinois I was puzzled by the number and 



stoutness of the fences. The disappearing fence 



85 



