ment is to restore some of the buildings of ancient Rome and surround them with a 

 magnificent park. Already thousands of young trees have been set out, but only 

 natives of the soil the laurel and the ilex, the olive and the pine have been chosen. 



Our greatest landscape architects realize the value of characteristic beauty, and 

 the folly of attempting to transform one landscape into another of a totally different 

 kind. Only a few days ago in Denver, William Law Olmsted said (and there is 

 perhaps no higher authority) "we should not try to imitate Eastern landscapes." 



The charm of variety is not attained by assembling many kinds of inharmonious 

 trees and shrubs together, but by emphasizing the characteristic growth of each region. 



We Californians, a cosmopolitan people, are slowly learning that our architecture 

 and landscape art, as well as mode of dress, must be formed by the natural conditions 

 of the State in which we dwell. 



Plants brought from even Arctic regions would in time, no doubt, adapt themselves 

 to new conditions, and grow into harmony with their surroundings, but why should 

 we force nature to repeat her patient processes, when the decoration she has already 

 prepared is so perfect and so beautiful? 



TOPOGRAPHY OF CALIFORNIA AND HIGHWAY CONSTRUCTION. 



In order to bring the topography of the State clearly before the reader's mind, we 

 quote from the opening chapter of John Muir's "The Mountains of California." 



"Go where you may within the bounds of California, mountains are ever in sight, 

 charming and glorifying every landscape. Yet so simple and massive is the topog- 

 raphy of the State in general views, that the main central portion displays only one 

 valley, and two chains of mountains which seem almost perfectly regular in trend 

 and height : the Coast Range on the west side and the Sierra Nevada on the east. 

 These two ranges coming together in curves on the north and south inclose a magnifi- 

 cent basin. 



"This is the grand central valley of California, the waters of which have only one 

 outlet to the sea through the Golden Gate. But with this general simplicity of 

 features there is great complexity of hidden detail. The Coast Range, rising as a 

 grand green barrier against the ocean, is composed of innumerable forest-crowned 

 spurs, ridges, and rolling hill-waves which inclose a multitude of smaller valleys; 

 some looking out through long, forest-lined vistas to the sea ; others, with but few 

 trees, to the central valley ; while a thousand others yet smaller are embosomed and 

 concealed in mild, round-browed hills, each with its own climate, soil and 

 productions." 



Through this varied and beautiful country the state highway is to pass, and many 

 new county roads are projected or in course of construction. To construct and plant 

 these highways, as well as those already made, so that the beauty of the landscape 

 as a whole shall be preserved, is the difficult problem presented. 



PLANTING ON MOUNTAIN ROADS. 



When the road must penetrate mountain gorges or find its way among the rolling 

 hills, skillful engineering is required to preserve the contour of the land. But in the 

 way of planting only restoration is needed covering scarred banks with native vines 

 and shrubs which strengthen while they adorn reforesting with native trees where 

 blackened stumps show that forest giants once stood. 



WATERWAYS. 



When the highway at lower levels follows where cool alders fringe the stream, or 

 where sycamores define it with their gleaming trunks, where willows bind the banks 

 and make the low-lying country beautiful as the waterway draws near the sea, art 

 and nature counsel "Plant only to restore." 



COAST VALLEY ROADS. 



When the road winds among the liveoaks of coast valley floors, there seems no 

 question still of introducing foreign growth. What could be more satisfying than 

 such "nature-planted" roadways? And to scatter these trees "whose rounded outlines 

 are repeated in the soft curves of the foothills" along the intervening roadway, linking 

 grove with grove, would seem the logical treatment, if we are to preserve the dis- 

 tinctive charm of the original landscape. 



It is true that oaks are comparatively slow growing, but even when no more than 

 shrubs they are very decorative. W T ith proper care the young trees make a surprising 

 growth, and in thirty years a man may stand under a fair sized liveoak of his own 

 planting. But, after all, are we to plant only for ourselves, and give no thought to 

 future generations? It would seem our duty to at least repair the natural loss among 



