l62 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 322. 



cipal streets of some of our great western cities (houses 

 quite as costly as the Borsig villa) often have grounds 

 which are large enough, if not for extensive horticultural 

 effort, at least for effective artistic treatment. If more at- 

 tention were given to the size, shape, position and archi- 

 tectural dignity of their porches or piazzas, if encircling 

 blank walls were masked below with graceful loggias, as 

 useful as they might be beautiful, and if planting were in- 

 telligently practiced, so as to connect the open portions of 

 the grounds with their architectural environment, then we 

 might often see in our cities the same kind of beauty which 

 has been achieved in the Borsig villa, and a coherent de- 

 sign and an adaptation of features individually fine to the 

 production of a general picture more charming than any of 

 its details. 



Moreover, American customs of summer life, often crowd- 

 ing the most costly houses together, with but small expanses 

 of ground about them, dictate methods of garden-design 

 which might -often be more architectural, less "natural- 

 istic" in idea. More dignity and regularity in the archi- 

 tectural adjuncts of the house, more system and symmetry 

 in the disposition and planting of the grounds, and, above 

 all, greater care in prescribing that similar ideas should 

 control the design of house and of grounds, and that they 

 should be integrally united, would work much improve- 

 ment in the general aspect as well as in the individual 

 beauties of such a place as Newport, for example. Too 

 often now we see a fine, solidly built house fitted with 

 porches and piazzas more proper to a rustic cottage ; and, 

 whether this be the case or not, the grounds are usually 

 laid out in a would-be natural manner, suggestive of some 

 really rural site and type of architecture. 



It is not needful that such grounds, unless they are so 

 small as to be scarcely more than door-yards, should be 

 disposed throughout in a formal manner. The main por- 

 tions of the Borsig grounds are naturalistically disposed and 

 irregularly planted with groups of freely growing trees and 

 shrubs. To-day they are rather too much overshadowed, 

 looking as though tree-cutting had not been so systemat- 

 ically practiced as it would have been could Lenn6 him- 

 self have watched during these past fifty years over the 

 development of his design. But, despite the somewhat tin- 

 tended aspect that such a lack of the highest landscape- 

 gardening intelligence always gives a small pleasure- 

 ground, the general air of this one is not inappropriate to 

 the environment of even a stately city home ; and this is 

 simply because the transition from house to garden has 

 been skillfully managed — because there is an intermediate 

 space where architectural and natural elements are inte- 

 grally combined. 



Notes of Mexican Travel. — VIII. 



ZAPOTLAN AND THE NEVADO OF COLIMA. 



T was the hour before dawn, on the 10th of May, when 

 I climbed into the diligence for Zapotlan, standing in 

 the court of the "Meson de Guadalupe," in Guadalajara. 

 When all was in readiness, the link-men sprang back from 

 the heads of our string of ten half-wild mules, and immedi- 

 ately these, rearing and plunging, dragged our ponderous 

 coach crashing through the portal. The streets at this 

 hour were deserted and dark, but as the coach rolled away 

 toward the southern gate of the city they resounded with 

 din and echo from wheels and hoofs on the rough pave- 

 ment of cobble-stones. We felt relief when the wheels 

 struck the gravel of the fields. A slight shower had fallen 

 overnight, and a cool breeze was blowing, to mitigate the 

 discomforts of heat and dust, which the accounts of friends 

 who had been over the road a few days previously led us 

 to expect. An hour after sunrise we halted in a little vil- 

 lage to change mules. We have five relays of mules dur- 

 ing the day. Near Santa Ana, thirty miles out, the road 

 descends from low hills into a level valley stretching 

 between ranges of low mountains as far as Sayula, where 

 the coach stops for the night. Soon after leaving Santa 



Ana we pass along the border of a reedy marsh, and 

 notice a lovely Crinum, with pink and white fragrant 

 flowers growing amid the reeds. Most of the way, 

 however, the bottom of the valley is a saline sink, now 

 perfectly dry and gray with incrustations of sS.lt, and glim- 

 mering, in mirage, under the heat of the sun. About the 

 sandy margins of the sink are straggling thickets of mes- 

 quite ; outside of these, for a short distance, appear a few 

 common Salt plants. 



A .prominent feature in the landscape about Sayula, 

 which stands in fertile fields at the head of the valley, is a 

 wild Fig, Ficus fascicutata, Watson. Its horizontal, far- 

 reaching branches make it a remarkably flat-topped tree, 

 and as it grows to immense size and lines the roadsides 

 in the neighborhood of the city, the Fig avenues of Sayula 

 are among the grandest of Mexican avenues. 



In the early morning, because we are descending to 

 more heated levels, we go on to Zapotlan with two relays 

 of mules, first crossing a range of hills, then rolling through 

 the deep dust of a valley. At Zapotlan the stage-road ends. 

 Between this city and Colima, some sixty miles, lie lava- 

 beds and deep barrancas, over which the traveler must 

 pass in saddle. But I cared not to go on to Colima in a 

 hurry. At Zapotlan I found myself in the midst of a 

 charming region. The view on the north was bounded by 

 the Sierra de Tapalpa, over which we had come. Close 

 beside the town, on the east, runs a range of hills more or 

 less completely covered with Pines. On all other sides of 

 the town lies a rich valley, the lowest portion of which, on 

 the north-west, is occupied by a lake some six miles broad. 

 In the south-west rises the Nevado of Colima, its summit 

 peak of bare rock, nearly 14,000 feet altitude and fifteen 

 miles distant, overtopping Pine-clad ridges and spurs 

 several miles in extent. Its twin peak, the Volcano of 

 Colirrw, since it stands behind the Nevado, and is of less 

 elevation, is not visible from Zapotlan. A few miles south 

 of the city extend beds of lava discharged from craters on 

 the edge of the valley, at the foot of the Nevado. Thus 

 we find here the various elements of beauty in a land- 

 scape, and the diverse conditions to make a region of 

 much botanical interest ; and to make life in this sunny 

 valley all the more agreeable, there were blowing over it 

 daily, during the period of my stay — the hottest part of 

 the year — fresh breezes from the sea and from the great 

 mountain. 



Waiting upon the chief magistrate with an official letter, 

 on the afternoon of my arrival, I at once had a friend most 

 courteous and kind, who found for my use a'most eligible 

 room in a house on the principal plaza (a house whose 

 flat roof offered facilities for drying plants), and who made 

 way for my roaming the region without hindrance or peril. 



One of my first finds was the tree, Ehretia cordifolia, 

 Rob., the most common and conspicuous tree of that val- 

 ley. Yucca Schottii, common about the outskirts of the 

 town and in roadside thickets, as well as among the lava- 

 beds, was a striking plant, because then in full bloom, its 

 white flowers being borne in panicles two or three feet 

 high. It is an arborescent species, with many slender, 

 erect branches. The hills and the lava-beds yielded me 

 several novelties. But May here is the month of extreme 

 aridity, and few plants were in growth or flower. 



From the great Nevado, however, I hoped for better 

 results, so, with haversack well filled, with canteen, port- 

 folio and mackintosh, I set out one morning, tramped 

 across the valley, entered a wide cleared canon, and fol- 

 lowed it up well into the flank of the mountain, where I 

 found a ranch, to whose owner I had brought a letter. It 

 was-onlyfora trusty Indian guide that I asked, but the 

 proprietor, with true Mexican courtesy, himself also 

 accompanied me. It was three o'clock in the afternoon 

 when we left his house and took a faint trail on the steep 

 mountain-side, under heavy forests. It was nightfall 

 when we gained the summit ridges and beheld the rocky 

 peak still two miles away. A cold wind was sweeping 

 over the mountain, and as our clothing was damp from 



