472 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 353. 



based on knowledge and experience, the sooner we begin 

 to instruct young men in the elements of silviculture the 

 better. Beyond question it is high time that the experi- 

 ment stations realized that from the very nature of their 

 position much responsibility rests upon them, and that 

 they should take hold of the work at once with some vigor 

 and determination. 



The autumn colors have almost disappeared from our 

 forests and thickets in this latitude, but there are persistent 

 leaves still glowing here and there to remind us of their past 

 splendor. The brilliancy of the foliage at this season is one 

 of the spectacles of the year of which one never tires, and 

 when trees are to be selected for parks and roadsides, and 

 even for private places, it is surprising that their appearance at 

 this season is not more carefully considered. It is always our 

 purpose in describing trees or shrubs to explain their value 

 for all seasons of the year, and we are glad to observe that 

 there is a growing demand for shrubs with ornamental 

 berries, which add another touch of color to the landscape 

 at this season. Our native Hollies and Winter Berries, 

 with their bright scarlet fruit, the Thorns and Crab-apples, 

 many of the Barberries, Viburnums, Cornels, Honeysuckles 

 and Roses, our climbing Bitter-sweet and its Asiatic conge- 

 ner, Celastrus articulata ; Symplocos crataegioides, which 

 as yet has no common name, but which is notable for its 

 ultramarine-blue fruit — all these and many more are growing 

 in popular favor, and are more often seen in planting lists. 

 We doubt, however, whether much consideration is given to 

 autumn color when trees are selected for planting. Our Oaks 

 and Maples, our Tupelo and Liquidambar and Sassafras, with 

 smaller trees, like the Sorrel and Dogwoods, are beautiful at 

 any season, but they are magnificent when in full October 

 color. Many shrubs, both native and foreign, are quite as bril- 

 liant as the larger trees. Our Yellow Root, with its scarlet and 

 orange ; our high Blueberries and some other Vacciniums ; 

 the Leucothoes, Sumachs and Viburnums and Rhododen- 

 dron VaseyL and some of the Asiatic Spiraeas, with many 

 others, are all clothed in autumn foliage, which is beautiful 

 beyond description. But, although certain species and 

 varieties are invariably beautiful, there are individuals of 

 these classes which excel the rest. Every one can recall 

 some Sugar Maple-tree, for example, which turns to more 

 gorgeous colors than any of its neighbors ; and in the first 

 volume of this journal we suggested the propriety of prop- 

 agating from trees of this character, so as to secure this 

 particular quality. In scores of instances nurserymen have 

 perpetuated some individual trait like the form or foliage 

 in different Maples, Locusts, Oaks and other trees, as the 

 long list in every catalogue will show. Why would it not 

 be wise for nurserymen to select for propagating plants 

 whose leaves have exceptionally pure color in autumn ? It 

 would seem that there ought to be a place somewhere for 

 shrubs and trees which could be commended for their sin- 

 gular beauty at this season. 



Accumulation without Disposition. 



iNE of the dangerous tendencies of modern gardens is 

 to sacrifice beauty of effect to the multiplication of 

 specimens. In these days when so many new and inter- 

 esting varieties of shrubs and trees are constantly being 

 introduced, the enthusiastic lover of a garden naturally 

 wishes to try everything, and so he plants each novelty 

 without considering whether it will harmonize with his 

 previous arrangement. There are many apparent justifica- 

 tions of this habit. One failure is that very few genuine 

 garden lovers are able to construct their places from the 

 beginning or to have any clear conception of how far this 

 passion, which grows by what it feeds on, is likely to con- 

 duct them. Most people furnish their grounds as they do 

 their libraries — one plant and one book at a time. The 

 book may be in several volumes, and the shrubs may come 

 by the dozen, but the purchase comes from the want of the 

 moment, not from a foreseen plan, and is based on novelty. 



Even if a man's grounds have been laid out for him by a 

 skillful landscape-gardener, the introduction of a fascinat- 

 ing novelty is too much for his artistic virtue. Have it he 

 must, and a place must be found for it somewhere. The 

 consequence is that small country places and large grounds 

 soon become overstocked, not only to the detriment of 

 the effect, but also to that of the plants and trees them- 

 selves, which suffer from crowding. If, even when let 

 alone, the tendency of a growing picture is to spoil itself, 

 how much the more must it suffer by the interpolation of 

 passages never allowed for in the original design ! 



In places of more pretension one sees the same tendency 

 to overload, to stick things in — to sacrifice harmony to 

 opulence, simplicity to the love of accumulation. If an 

 Umbrella Pine or a Cedar of Lebanon is a rare and expen- 

 sive tree, it must be had, and planted in a conspicuous 

 situation that every one may see it, without any reference 

 to the fact that neither of these important trees can be set 

 out without the risk of their striking a false note, and 

 swearing at the rest of the composition, and it is the same 

 with shrubs and flowers. Yet one of the principles urged 

 in the earliest and best works upon landscape-gardening is 

 that selection is far more important than variety, and that 

 a better effect can always be produced by masses of one 

 kind of tree than by clumps composed of many different 

 trees. Uvedale Price, in his essays on the picturesque, 

 deprecates the practice of mixing many sorts to produce 

 variety, and adds : 



Variety, of which the true end is to relieve the eye, not to 

 perplex it, does not consist in the diversity of separate objects, 

 but in the diversity of their effects when combined together, 

 so as to form a difference of composition and character. Many 

 think, however, that they have obtained that grand object when 

 they have exhibited in one body all the hard names of the Lin- 

 naean system ; but when as many plants as can be well got 

 together are exhibited in every shrubbery or in every planta- 

 tion, the result is a sameness of a different kind, but not less 

 truly a sameness than would arise from there being no diver- 

 sity at all ; for there is no having variety of character without 

 a certain distinctness, without certain marked features on 

 which the eye can dwell. 



The trouble with places in which accumulation is the 

 guiding spirit, is that there is a weariness of detail about 

 them ; one is more occupied with the specimens than with 

 the picture ; in short, the porch is bigger than the temple. 

 This is a crying error whether it occur in park or garden. 

 The larger and more united the landscape effect, the sim- 

 pler must be its component parts. In Repton's Inquiry 

 into Changes of Taste he says, " There is more variety in 

 passing from a grove of Oaks to a grove of Firs than in 

 passing through a wood composed of a hundred different 

 species. " There are places of charming possibilities which 

 leave no more consecutive effect upon the mind than the 

 study of a botanical dictionary. The only memory which 

 survives after a day's walk through such a museum is that 

 of two or three interesting specimens. Of course, a man 

 has a right to make a museum of his place if he desires, 

 and in that case his collection will have its highest value 

 when it is instructively classified. It will fail of its pur- 

 pose as a museum if the plants are confusedly scattered 

 about wherever the gardener could find a hole for each one 

 in some unoccupied corner. 



This fault is the same one we deprecate in materialistic 

 painting, where the artist occupies himself with each leaf 

 upon the tree, or each stone upon a sea-beach, rather than 

 with the great harmonious sweep of foliage, or the sliock 

 of the ever-changing wave as it strikes the sands. It takes 

 courage to sacrifice a specimen to a picture, the specimen 

 is so enticing, so novel, so altogether the best of its kind; 

 its blossom is unrivaled, its fruit a marvel, its growth 

 unparalleled, we must have it to show. 



Thus, in humble gardens, we find a giant Magnolia cul- 

 tivated in a garden-patch, a new Hollyhock looming in a 

 Mignonette bed, a Japanese Cypress tucked away under an 

 Oak, and a row of Spruces struggling in an Apple orchard. 

 Our parks are not free from this vice of confusion. There 



