May 30, 1894. J 



Garden and Forest. 



213 



western prairies, are more at home here than many 

 plants from our Pine barrens, which require great care in 

 moving and handling. Indeed, nearly all of the plants 

 already named come from the woodlands in the more 

 northern and western states, and they all grow with less 

 care than most of the herbaceous plants found in the 

 Pines. I have several times carefully transferred our 

 charming Pyxidanthera from its home in the woods to a 

 similar situation in the garden ; but, even in the shade of 

 an old Pine, it will not grow and thrive as it does in its 

 own wilds. I have succeeded admirably, however, with 

 Xerophyllum, which was transplanted several years ago, 

 and some of these plants bloom each year. 



Most of the flowering shrubs from the Pines bear trans- 

 planting and grow finely. Andromeda Mariana and the 

 white Fringe-tree, Chionanthus Virginica, Azalea viscosa, 

 the Sumachs, Clethra, Bayberry, Amelanchier, Pyrus arbu- 

 tifolia .and many others flower in my garden as luxuriantly 

 as in their native wilds. Many single Roses of the rugosa 

 type — red, white and pink — are in full flower in my garden 

 by the middle of May. Some of them are climbing ; others 

 are in bush form. Late in May and early in June our own 

 wild Roses begin to bloom, and some of them continue to 

 flower all summer. 

 Vineiand, N.J. Mary lreal. 



Redlands. 



FROM the eastern crest of the San Timatteo Canon, in 

 California, 1,700 feet above the Pacific Ocean and fifty 

 miles from it, the town of Redlands, now nine years old, lies 

 along the slopes of uneven land, extending to the lowest 

 level of the East Bernardino valley. Here its railroad- 

 stations, stores and public buildings are clustered, adjoin- 

 ing the old town called Sugano, of which Redlands is still 

 a part. At this point the great valley has an elevation of 

 1,300 feet above the tide, and extends north and west, with 

 fields of barley, vineyards and Orange-orchards. Most of 

 the surface is cultivated for twenty miles or more, until it 

 is merged in the valley of the San Gabriel and leads out to 

 the plains beside the sea. Its average width is twelve 

 miles, but it has extensive ramifications into the higher 

 valleys among the foot-hills, where grain and deciduous 

 fruits are cultivated. All its eastern border is a wall of 

 mountains, and the highest peaks of the San Bernardino 

 Mountains, snow-crowned and glorious against the blue 

 of the sunny skies, look down upon this abundant growth 

 of fruit and cereals. Wheat ripens in these upper valleys, 

 but barley, the usual food for cattle and horses in this lati- 

 tude, is a more certain crop. 



Three miles east of the city, a pass through the foot-hills 

 gives entrance to the Yucaipe Valley, an extensive region, 

 with an altitude of 2,000 to 5,000 feet, especially adapted 

 in soil and climate to the growth of cherries, plums and 

 other fruits. Apples also flourish there. All these valleys 

 are only fertile when irrigated, but the water-supply is 

 abundant, in vast reservoirs fed by the snow-covered 

 mountains. 



Business in Redlands thus touches many sources of 

 prosperity. The residence portion commands admiration 

 for its graded streets, pleasant homes nestled amid Orange- 

 groves, and for fine avenues, many of them over one hun- 

 dred feet wide and bordered on either side with a planting- 

 space set with a single or with double rows of trees. 

 These promise remarkable beauty, for exotic and native 

 trees flourish together under these genial skies. Some of 

 the older streets were planted with the Pepper-tree seven 

 years ago. Here, as elsewhere in this state, this tree 

 rapidly grows to a large size, and some of the trees are 

 now twenty-five feet high, with wide-spreading branches 

 sweeping to the ground The Pepper-tree has all the airy 

 spring of the Elm in its branches, combined with the pend- 

 ulous grace of the Willow in the sweep of its pale-green 

 foliage and its drooping racemes of crimson fruit. 

 Nothing could be more desirable for beauty, but it begins 

 to be whispered that it is the home of the black-scale, that 



pest of the Orange-groves, and if this proves true, the 

 Pepper-tree is doomed in spite of its beauty. The Eucalyp- 

 tus is not so well liked for street-planting, but where it is 

 planted as a wind-brake it has already attained a height of 

 forty feet. Another favorite tree, Grevillea robusta, which 

 when young is used to decorate northern greenhouses, is 

 here growing freely and is fifteen to twenty feet high, with 

 a dense head of feathery bronze-green foliage. It is a 

 beautiful shade-tree and is often planted alternately with 

 the Century-plant, which here grows to a large size. The 

 dark and glossy grace of the Grevillea contrasts well with 

 the pale tints and stiffness of this desert-plant. 



A word must be said in praise of the Fan-palm, Wash- 

 ingtonia filifera, which not only supplies to street-orna- 

 mentation the musical rustle of the leaves, with their 

 fringes of delicate white threads, but also with its leaf-stalks 

 artistically cut year by year, and the unique natural vase 

 from which it seems to sprout. 



Lemon-trees, laden with their ever-growing fruit, make 

 a pleasing variety along these streets, and Acacia mollis- 

 sima, when it is in flower, makes a yellow glow amid the 

 shadows, and is often contrasted with the Olive-tree. 

 Those who have only seen the historical ( (live-trees, worn 

 and gnarled by the centuries, can hardly imagine how 

 pretty these young trees are. Lithe as young Birches, 

 smiling back to the sunshine as it touches their demure 

 suits of silver-gray with twinkling lights, like coquettish 

 Quaker damsels, they look as if they could never grow old. 



But the tree one meets at all points is the Monterey 

 Cypress, a most attractive tree, with tender gray-blue foli- 

 age, of symmetrical and noble growth. There is a darker 

 variety, which is more commonly known and which lends 

 itself to any shape of man's device. It stands for hedges 

 around the Orange-groves, or shields the flower-beds before 

 the dwellings with gateways and arches and posts. The 

 sides and tops are compact and square as stone walls, or 

 gracefully rounded and curved. Some of the forms it has 

 been made to take are grotesque and painful enough, and 

 one feels sorry for the beautiful tree thus twisted out of all 

 semblance of nature. But the Cypress seems never to 

 complain, and seldom takes the liberty to die. 



Guava and Laurestinus are here also cut into hedges, 

 but they are not so adaptable, and have often to be re- 

 placed. 



The rapid growth peculiar to this climate, where there is 

 continuous growing weather, is observed also in the little 

 park that crowns the crest of the canon, and is the show- 

 place of Redlands. Seven years ago these dry uplands 

 could not boast a tree. Their broken sides, seamed with 

 many a scar from fierce elemental wars in past ages, lay 

 bare, and appeared hopelessly given over t" Sage-brush 

 and the jack-rabbit. Five years ago two men climbed 

 these hills until at this point the whole unrivaled view lay 

 before them — the grand sweep of the mountains and the 

 curving plain with its more distant towns, Colton and San 

 Bernardino, surrounded by outlying groves and Barley- 

 fields ; at their feet Redlands reached out in all directions, 

 with vineyards and orchards, its steeper canons terraced 

 like a Roman amphitheatre to admit the level growth the 

 Orange-tree loves, and the gentle slopes best suited for irri- 

 gation. They first asked whether water from the pipes of 

 the great Bear Valley Reservoir could be carried to these 

 heights. This key to the situation having been secured, 

 land was purchased, two small reservoirs were made at the 

 highest points of the new possession, two houses were 

 built, and the place became a home for two families, who 

 have since converted the estate into a paradise. For two 

 years nearly a hundred men were employed regularly, and 

 the work progressed rapidly. The soil is a deep red clayey 

 loam, very rich in some parts, and in others requiring 

 dressing, which was supplied freely. Where the natural 

 inequalities could not be reduced, the ravines were ter- 

 raced before they were planted, roads were made, and a 

 park of 150 acres was laid out. All the road-ways are bor- 

 dered by a line of cut stone, and where the sharpness of 



