MR. URBAN AND A COUNTRY HOUSE 



one can reach but by a break-neck scramble 

 over abominable roads, is like making a fine 

 speech to empty benches — always an ungrate- 

 ful thing to do, as many a good man knows. 

 Half the charm of the river-bank places along 

 the Hudson lies in the fact that they, with their 

 surroundings, really form a part of that great 

 water highway of travel — gazed upon every 

 summer day by the world that floats down- 

 ward and upward through the mountain gates 

 of the river, dotting the green hills with les- 

 sons which every floating traveller may read — 

 massing their showy rhododendrons so that 

 thousands from below and above may see the 

 pink crown of blossoms. The boat, the car, 

 those hundred eyes, do not steal away any 

 home-like privacy; they equip it rather with a 

 new content — the content that comes of see- 

 ing others enjoy what we enjoy and take a 

 pride in ourselves. Never a man yet, no mat- 

 ter how crotchety or unassailable, who pos- 

 sessed farm or garden, into whose manage- 

 ment his pride and care had largely entered, 

 but enjoyed seeing it admired. The eye of the 

 world upon a man's work is healthfully stimu- 

 lative. He who denies it, and plants for his 

 solitary gratification only, has a weak spot in 

 his head or heart, and deserves to go crazed 



253 



