362 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 180. 



As the Appalachian system is narrowed in and lifted to 

 greater elevations in New Hampshire, its mountain 

 scenery is, of course, bolder than that of Pennsylvania, 

 for example, but a picture of one of its quieter landscapes, 

 like that in the foreground of the illustration on page 366, 

 might have been taken in any one of half a dozen states. 

 The dim outlines of the distant mountains, however, have 

 a nobility which belongs peculiarly to the White Hills — a 

 certain massiveness and grandeur which is only seen at 

 points where the Appalachian ridges attain their greatest 

 altitude. Aside from the distant mountain view, the 

 sparkling water and graceful masses of foliage which 

 make up this picture can be found in an hour's walk from 

 almost any part of the hill country of which we speak. 

 This particular picture seems so beautiful because the artist 

 who caught it has the rare instinct to select the proper 

 point of view to make a perfect composition. There are a 

 hundred brooks which hurry down the slopes and loiter 

 in these valleys which are as beautiful as the one in the 

 picture. They may be overhung, as this one is, by Elms 

 and Alders, or by Birches and Willows, or by Hornbeams 

 and Black Ashes, but they always foam and tumble in the 

 same happy way down mountain-slopes among rocks 

 covered with ferns and mosses and then spread out in 

 shallows, as this one does, to mirror the light of the sky 

 and give life and sparkle to the landscape. A country 

 where the air is filled with the murmur of brooks is 

 always a beautiful country. Running water is itself 

 beautiful, and it means a rolling and broken surface with 

 hills and mountains down which.it flows with abundant 

 moisture to ensure a mantle of verdure for every scene. 



A " Massachusetts Forest." 



IT is remarkable how little the populations of our great 

 cities often know of prominent and important features 

 of the landscape close at hand. A notable instance of this 

 is to be found in the beautiful range of the Blue Hills, near 

 Boston, These hills are the highest elevations in eastern 

 Massachusetts, and are the only eminences of a distinc- 

 tively mountainous character near the Atlantic coast-line 

 of the United States south of Mount Agamenticus, near 

 Kittery, in Maine. The highest summit is known as the 

 " Big Blue," and is the westernmost of the range, where 

 stands the stone tower of the Rotch Meteorological Ob- 

 servatory, a privately endowed institution, which is per- 

 forming a valuable scientific service. This summit is 635 

 feet above thesea-level, but being so near the ocean that 

 altitude shows for its full value, giving an appearance of 

 height greater than that often possessed by inland eleva- 

 tions very much superior. 



The Blue Hills are the most prominent landscape feature 

 of the coast of Massachusetts Bay and of the "Boston 

 Basin,'' as it is called, of which they form the southern 

 wall. Their noble undulating lines, presenting a succes- 

 sion of gracefully sweeping curves, like inverted crescents, 

 form charming backgrounds of the views to the southward 

 from Franklin Park and the Arnold Arboretum. From the 

 former, the range, lifting itself without foreshortening on 

 the thither side of the Neponset Valley, and thereby gaining 

 in dignity and apparent elevation, appears to be included 

 in the park which, in the noble vista from the southern 

 end of the Playstead Overlook down the great central 

 meadow of the Country Park, seems to stretch away to the 

 A r ery base of the hills. This lovely pastoral landscape has 

 a beautiful complement near by. From the outlook point 

 of the recently completed Loop road of the Wilderness in 

 the park, the Blue Hills form the background of a perfect 

 sylvan picture, making the focal element of the composi- 

 tion, as it may well be called, of one of Mr. Olmsted's 

 most exquisite creations. Whoever has seen this enchant- 

 ing view — standing at the edge of a parapet at the head of 

 a rocky ravine in the steep hill-side, with a glimpse of the 

 main drive of the park smoothly gleaming as it curves and 

 loses itself in the trees just below with a sort of river-like 



effect (very much, it may be presumed, like those simula- 

 tions of water made with surfaces of sand in the gardens 

 of the Japanese), and overlooking an unbroken billowy 

 expanse of woodland, varied with the shadings and forms 

 of commingling deciduous and coniferous trees, the stately 

 hills closing in the vista — whoever has seen this will not 

 be likely to forget it. It is one of those rare landscape 

 passages which, like that sight of the Wartburg framed in 

 the foliage of the Thuringian forest from a hill-side near 

 Eisenach, is treasured most preciously in the memory, and 

 is destined to become equally famous. 



The Blue Hills are thus familiar to thousands at a dis- 

 tance, and very many who have thus gazed in delighted 

 admiration have been filled with the curious longing, that 

 generally arises at such times, to know them close at hand 

 and gaze from their summits over the widespreading land- 

 scape that must thence be disclosed. But of those thou- 

 sands very few have ever visited the spot, although 

 the hills are, indeed, a favorite excursion-ground for many 

 nature-lovers— like the members of the Appalachian Club, 

 for instance. It would be thought, however, that a range 

 of hills like this, close to a great city, would long since 

 have become popular and celebrated as a pleasure-resort, 

 as they certainly would in the neighborhood of a Euro- 

 pean metropolis. 



The views from those summits are remarkably far-reach- 

 ing and varied. They embrace a great extent of coast and 

 inland scenery : the blue sea indenting the shores, mean- 

 dering rivers, wide meadows and plains, clustering towns, 

 forest-expanses, hilly undulations, and the lofty peaks of 

 far-away mountains — Monadnock and Wachusett, with 

 other ranges more distant. To the northward lies the 

 great city, spreading until its mass of buildings is lost be- 

 yond the hills which they cover. Its noise is hushed, its 

 bustle not apparent save in the smoky streamers that 

 float like dusk)'- pennants in the air. One feels no sense 

 of the swarming multitudes with their manifold occupa- 

 tions, burdens and cares, concentrated in that space which, 

 though so limited in comparison with the vast encircling 

 horizon, holds a third of the population of the next to the 

 most densely populated state in the Union. To the south- 

 ward, however, the contrast to the city is impressive. 

 Save for a peeping spire, or a distant town that seems but 

 a wee cluster of houses, seen at intervals, the earth's sur- 

 face appears as a vast wilderness, almost as unbroken as it 

 must have looked when the eye of a white man first gazed 

 from these hill-tops. Close at hand, on the southerly side, 

 just at the foot of the Big Blue, nestles the beautiful placid 

 sheet called Ponkapog Pond. Near by Mr. T. B. Aldrich, 

 the poet, has his summer-home amid surroundings where 

 it seems hardly possible that it could be only twelve miles 

 removed from the turmoil of a great city. 



In all this varied landscape human occupancy seems but 

 a passing incident, much as it has done to change the face 

 of nature. The abiding impression is that of Nature her- 

 self, and humanity appears to be but one of her forces, 

 temporarily modifying the earth's surface, like the beavers, 

 the ants or the earth-worms. And how the trees serve to 

 veil the structures of man ! I have been struck by this 

 even on the verge of London, where trees seemed the 

 main feature, with brick walls and roofs but peering be- 

 tween them. After all it would take but a few years of 

 absence on the part of man for all this expanse to relapse 

 into. utter wildness, wiping out all signs of our handiwork 

 just as the sponge effaces the chalk-marks from a black- 

 board. 



The air on these hill-tops is like that of the mountains, 

 pure and bracing, for the winds sweep freely from all sides. 

 Here would be an ideal place for a great sanitarium, for 

 close-at-hand people of limited means, who cannot afford 

 long journeys, would find all the attractions of air and 

 scenery for which many are accustomed to travel hun- 

 dreds of miles. 



The most convenient way to reach the Blue Hills is to 

 take the cars of either the Providence division of the Old 



