86 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 261. 



there were in Boston, New York and other cities vokmtary 

 leagues of citizens whose names would command respect 

 and who were prepared with a permanent secretary and 

 staff, not only to sound a warning against approaching 

 danger, but to help to give effective expression to public 

 opinion, such associations would accomplish much toward 

 assuring the integrity of many urban parks. A few rods 

 less of open space in the Common or in the City Hall Park 

 may appear of no great importance, even to the more 

 thoughtful residents of Boston or New York; but really 

 the least curtailment of either of these pleasure-grounds 

 would be a national calamity. If the rights of the people 

 are surrendered in one instance, it establishes a precedent 

 for a still further surrender, and the second attack would 

 succeed much more easily than the first. It is not only 

 that New York and Boston would ultimately lose a park or 

 a portion of a park, but every foot of park property in 

 every part of the union would be rendered even more inse- 

 cure than it already is. It would strengthen every 

 attacking force and weaken every defense. It would dis- 

 courage and paralyze the efforts of far-seeing people all 

 over the country who desire to give land for park purposes, 

 and who are studying to meet the demand for open spaces 

 which is sure to arise in the cities of the future. Every 

 official who is entrusted with the administration of city 

 parks has an obligation which ought to be as binding as a 

 written covenant to hand down this property, without 

 impairment, to his successors. And we hope and be- 

 lieve that public sentiment both in Boston and New York, 

 kindled and strengthened by every consideration of 

 patriotism, local pride and enlightened self-interest, will 

 avail to save for coming generations the two oldest 

 pleasure-grounds in the country. 



A STATUE of President Arthur, executed by Mr. Keyser 

 for a committee representing a number of the prominent 

 citizens of New York, was recently passed upon by the 

 Advisory Art Committee of the Park Department. These 

 experts recommended that the statue should not be ac- 

 cepted by the Board, because it did not possess sufficient 

 artistic merit. It is plainly the duty of the Park Board to 

 exclude, rigorously, every work that is not so good that it 

 will both adorn the spot where it stands and be an educa- 

 tion of public taste, no matter whom it may commemorate 

 or by whom it may be offered. It seems a pity that well- 

 intentioned labor, and money given in a patriotic spirit, 

 should be wasted ; but the worst possible waste is to deface 

 the open spaces of the city with works which ought never 

 to have been made. A careful consideration of the public's 

 interests and a studious determination not to let private 

 interests outweigh them is the only rule for public officials 

 to follow. The advisory art committee are men of the 

 first rank. Competent artists are too rarely produced by 

 public officials, and the Park Board does itself credit by 

 accepting as final the judgment of such a tribunal. 



Another Columbus monument, presented by our Spanish 

 residents, is on its way from Spain. This, too, must be 

 passed upon by the Board's Advisory Committee, and this, 

 too, should be excluded from the Park unless it proves a 

 worthy ornament. If it does, its site should be selected 

 with the greatest care, for it is a large fountain that will 

 have a marked effect upon the general aspect of its sur- 

 roundings. It is, indeed, time that the minds of our citizens 

 should be cleared of the idea that any statue may be put in 

 our parks, and that any site may be petitioned for, in any 

 case. The projectors of the Arthur monument not only 

 asked for the acceptance of their figure, but also that it 

 might be placed in the Plaza Circle, at the junction of Fifth 

 Avenue and 'Fifty-eighth Street, which is the very finest site 

 for a monument in all New York. This site should be 

 scrupulously reserved until some work of entirely appro- 

 priate size and character, and of exceptional artistic worth, 

 like the monument designed by St. Gaudens in memory of 

 Sherman, may be obtained by the city. 



On Broad Top. — III. 



'T^HE abandoned farms on Broad Top form a very insignifi- 

 -'- cant portion of its topography, but offer such a variety of 

 attractions that as objective points for walks and hunting, or 

 photographic expeditions they are unrivaled. One, now al- 

 most covered with a growth of beautiful White Pines, occupies 

 a commanding position on the outer slope of the mountain, 

 at the head of the projecting ridge that separates Wells from 

 the euphoniously named Groundhog Valley. Another, also on 

 the outer slope, lies upon natural terraces whicli overlook the 

 broken outlines of the mountains along the Raystown Branch. 

 Others within the mountain's rim are upon tlie upper slopes 

 of the ridges, and have almost become part of the forest again ; 

 while others on the leveled crest show broad open sweeps 

 of grassy fields and meadows. 



AH differ not only in site, but in the vegetation fast filling 

 their fields, and concealing, but not obliterating, their roads. 

 It is curious hov/ these unused and litde frequented roads re- 

 tain their character; many are untrodden for years at a time, 

 and quite hidden by overhanging shrubbery, but a little cut- 

 ting soon restores the path to view, grass-grown and mossy, 

 perhaps, but obviously and distinctly a roadway. A confusing 

 network of bark and timber roads crosses the township roads 

 and old farm roads, and except by careful remembrance of land- 

 marks, and constant watchfulness for blazes, it is the easiest 

 thing in the world to lose one's way. While it is always possi- 

 ble in this country to return on a different road than the one 

 taken at the start, such a return is often quite involuntary, and 

 may mean an extra journey from one to ten miles long. 



A very beautiful forest-road leads to an abandoned farm 

 lying almost at the head of the valley formed by Trough 

 Creek. It is included in the lease of one of the occupied 

 farms, but of its half-hundred or more acres only one field is 

 ever planted ; the rest are used for pasturage, and some have 

 been so denuded of their soil that only weeds and vines find 

 lodgment, but in their autumn coloring these give a transient 

 beauty to the fields, far exceeding that of more useful days. 



Our road to the " upper place" leads past the barn, where 

 the men are threshing buckwheat with flails ; October for 

 them is not an autumn holiday, but means hard work, made 

 harder by their utter lack of system. We pass on from the 

 noise and dust into the grateful quiet of the woods, always 

 beautiful, but now inexpressibly so with the sunshine trans- 

 figuring each leaf and branch. In less than half a mile the 

 road crosses three little streams, now mere threads, and 

 almost invisible between their fringed border of Ferns. The 

 Adiantums and Dicksonias are especially numerous and fine ; 

 the latter have marked this path for their own. They crowd 

 into the foot-way, surround fallen branches, and have carpeted 

 the forest-floor with exquisite combinations of ivory and green. 

 Some beds show pure ivory tones throughout, others have 

 only a few tips, or perhaps half a frond blanched, while others 

 retain unbroken the delicate yet vivid green of midsummer. 



As we approach the farm the road widens, and is quite 

 grass-grown as it rises gradually through a beautiful grove of 

 Oaks and Chestnuts to a plateau at the lower extremity 

 of the fields. From this point we have vistas down the road 

 we have just come, and between the trees growing in the 

 fence angles, up the surface of the fields to where their sum- 

 mit touches the horizon. Botrychiums are drooping in the 

 grass at our feet, and across the path Medeolas lift their crim- 

 son throats above a guard of briers. Beyond us our path lies 

 through a grassy avenue, framed by Maples and Chestnuts, 

 whose interlaced branches form a flamboyant arch. 



We pass from this arch into an open space, where formerly 

 the house stood. All that remains of what was once a home is a 

 tumbled heap of stones, a portion of the great stone chimney, 

 now covered with a tangle of vines. Butternut-trees edge the 

 forest and outline the fields ; they have a ragged, uninterest- 

 ing look on dull days, but in brilliant sunshine the bark of the 

 older ones has an ebony and silver effect. One of these trees 

 beside a path leading to the barn is very striking, with its 

 massive trunk and strong, bold lines. Near by, the frame of 

 the old log-barn is standing, though apparently with a short 

 lease of life, in a field overgrown with thickets of young trees. 



Our way through it to the upper fields leads across open 

 spaces dotted with Starry Campion, past a group of Hickories 

 showering golden leaves upon an immense bed of Aspidium, 

 bordered by Chelone, and over a tangled mat of Lycopodium 

 to the field above, where Yellow Pines struggle for supremacy 

 with Thorn Locusts. 



On we climb imtil, at the upper level of the " top fields," we 

 are on the dividing ridge of the mountain, all the streams we 

 have passed emptying through Trough Creek into the Juniata, 



