OUR CO U N T R Y HOME 



But The Man of Many Maps would smile mysteriously, half- 

 pityingly, and say, " You miss the point of view. " He was not 

 punning either; far from indulging in such frivolities, he left all 

 that to the Friendly Architect ! 



" Thus it must be, " he would calmly continue, '* and you will 

 be satisfied with the result. You will have plenty of trees left. 

 Look at your wonderful woods. " 



In spite of my agreeing perfectly with his dictum, in spite of all 

 that my reasoning powers could tell me, in spite of seeing those trees 

 go down, one by one, I can never to this day reconcile myself to it, 

 or hear that dreadful final crash without a little contraction in my 

 throat and a shiver, as if the tree were almost a sentient being, and 

 I had taken a life. 



After over four hundred trees, large and small, had been felled, 

 I supposed the land was ready to plant ; but no although the 

 trees had been brought down in most modern and approved fashion 

 by cutting around them and uprooting them, stumps and all, the 

 horses pulling them over by chains, from the lawn alone, an acre 

 in extent, sixteen wagon loads of roots varying from one to six inches 

 in diameter were carried away before the land could be ploughed, 

 graded, harrowed, and sowed. 



In order to preserve the natural beauty of the shore, no pump- 

 house, or boathouse, or even coal-shed was allowed there. To be 

 sure, we must have a pier. No artistic and practical model pre- 

 senting itself, we must fain keep to the time-honored posts, sunk in 



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