October 21, 1891.] 



Garden and Forest. 



495 



is a domain whose beauty is as uncommon as it is striking, as 

 natural as it is artistic. 



If you look at a map of Buzzard's Bay you will see at its 

 inner end, lying west of the arm into which the Wareham 

 River flows, a promontory which is divided into two points 

 by the deep indentation of Wing's Cove, the easterly one called 

 Great Hill and the westerly, and longer, one called Sippican 

 Neck. A few years ago Mr. Nickerson purchased a small 

 hotel which stood near the extremity of Great Hill, so named, 

 by the way, because, although the plateau it forms is only 127 

 feet above the sea, it is the highest ground in this neighbor- 

 hood. To the land attached to this building Mr. Nickerson 

 has gradually added until his property now covers some 1,500 

 acres, includes the whole of Great Hill, extends along the west- 

 ern shore of Wing's Cove, and, owing to the presence of the 

 cove, boasts of some six miles of water-front. It is only a few 

 weeks since I wrote for Garden and Forest a description of 

 the way in which the land in this region has covered itself with 

 forests, to the obliteration of the farms by which it once was 

 occupied. Most of Mr. Nickerson's property, when it came 

 into his hands, was a dense forest-growth, extending down to 

 the water's edge, although here and there were open tracts still 

 under cultivation. There was only one makeshift approach 

 from the high-road to the house. Everything was to be done 

 if a rough woodland was to be transformed into an agreeable 

 summer residence. Fortunately, however, the man who had 

 built the house had chosen exactly the best site, not on the 

 actual point of the promontory, but on a broader projection 

 toward the south-east, so that the view embraces the main 

 expanse of Buzzard's Bay, and, as well, the long arm which 

 runs up toward Wareham. And here he had set the house 

 on exactly the right spot, just far enough away from the sea to 

 leave wide foregrounds to east and south between house and 

 water, and at the top of the slopes which thence run down to 

 the narrow beaches. The house was left, outside, just as it 

 stood, and now is manifestly out of keeping with its surround- 

 ings. But it is easier, one remembers, to rebuild a house than 

 to recast an unfortunately treated landscape ; and this land- 

 scape has been so well treated that, should an architect ever 

 be called upon to rebuild, he will be very unintelligent if he 

 fails to produce a wholly charming result. 



The main approach to Great Hill is now from an entrance 

 lying toward the north-west, on the road from Marion, and 

 not far from the head of Wing's Cove, which, however, is 

 hidden from view by the thick masses of the forest. Hence a 

 finely constructed road, more than a mile and a quarter in 

 length, leads to the house, gradually rising as it goes with per- 

 petually varying curves, whose sinuosities, however, are never 

 exaggerated, so that it seems to take the most natural way 

 along the gentle ascent and between the closely pressing trees. 

 The chief care bestowed upon the borders of the road was in 

 the way of preservation ; but along the edge of the macadam 

 a border of turf, three or four inches wide, was laid. When 

 I saw the road soon after its completion, five years ago, the 

 artificial character of this little edging was apparent, but by 

 the next summer it had become amalgamated with the natural 

 growth of grass, wild flowers and shrubs. For a long distance 

 after leaving the gate we drive in sun-streaked shadow be- 

 neath good-sized trees, chiefly White Pines, with occasionally 

 a Pitch Pine, a Holly, a Swamp Maple, a Gray Birch, or a Cedar. 

 In some places the undergrowth is low, giving -a far view 

 between the tree-trunks, but in others it forms masses of 

 shrubbery from six to ten feet high, where Blueberries, Vibur- 

 nums and Clethras, Wild Roses, Vines and young Sassafras- 

 trees and Maples sweep the ground with their branches, while 

 the finest feature of all is supplied by great full clumps of the 

 shining evergreen Inkberry. Here and there these shrub- 

 beries fall back, leaving little grassy glades or vistas, with per- 

 haps a big boulder or two, and sprinkled, now with red Lilies, 

 and again with orange-colored Butterfly-weed or tall sprays of 

 Golden-rod, Aster and Wild Sunflower. No one is allowed to 

 break the shrubs or pick the flowers along the drives at Great 

 Hill, wild though they are, and no one who sees their constant 

 yet perpetually changing beauty thinks of wishing that a gar- 

 dener had been allowed to "improve" them by any of his 

 manipulations or additions. At one spot an unusually large 

 White Pine accentuates a curve of the road ; at another it is 

 completely bridged, high overhead, by a slender drooping 

 Birch, and at another a great old Cedar stands, almost dead 

 but shrouded thick with hanging grief-moss — a figure of mor- 

 tality which throws into strong relief the vigor of the life 

 about it. 



In one place the faintest glimmer of the waters of Wing's 

 Cove may be caught through the trees. But the owner has 

 had the right idea as regards the character of this drive, and 



has resisted many mistaken appeals to "open vistas" for the 

 revelation of the sea. "This is a forest-road," he says ; "you 

 will see plenty of water when we get to it." 



As one reaches higher ground, perhaps a third of a mile 

 from the house, the soil becomes poorer, and bears chiefly 

 smallish Oaks and Pitch Pines almost free from high under- 

 growth. Here on one side lies a large paddock for the horses 

 and donkeys, and then at the end of a short straight stretch of 

 rising road we come, facing eastward, suddenly out upon a 

 very large, almost circular and sloping lawn with a wide 

 stretch of blue water beyond it, and beyond this the low 

 wooded line of the Wareham shore. Half-skirting the lawn 

 to the right we are brought to the house ; and from there, fol- 

 lowing the road as it passes between the lawn and another 

 slope descending to the sea, it takes us out of the place again 

 along a "sea-drive" about a mile in length. 



It seems almost a pity that we had not approached the house 

 by this second drive ; for, although it is beautiful driving in 

 either direction, it is, of course, most beautiful when our faces, 

 not our backs, are turned to the south and the open bay. It 

 runs close to the irregular margin of the water on one side, 

 now skirting little white beaches and now border-like masses 

 of low shrubs and clambering vines, from which rise occa- 

 sional tall Pines or Cedars, while the forest on the landward 

 side opens at intervals into broad grassy stretches, probably 

 the remains of formerly cultivated fields. One of these wide 

 pastures, almost square in shape, is especially beautiful, 

 thickly surrounded by trees, but itself wholly unbroken save 

 by a group of tall, graceful Birches that stands close to the 

 roadway. Occasional pools of water also diversify this drive, 

 as richly clothed along their edges as, I think, only the pools 

 of this particular region ever are. Nothing but the road itself 

 betrays the touch of art except one of these pools which, to 

 protect the road, had to be kept within bounds by a stone 

 curbing. Certain observers, struck by its unlikeness to its sur- 

 roundings, ask why it was made of a regular oval shape and 

 edged with symmetrically cut stone. But the owner replies 

 that one can't make a curbed basin look really natural, and 

 when a thing must look artificial it ought simply and plainly 

 to confess its character. The result confirms his view, for 

 one realizes that some necessity prescribed this treatment of 

 the spring-hole, and, lying so close to the road, it does not 

 strike an inharmonious note. 



Marion, Mass. M. G. Van Rensselaer. 



Seedling Almonds in California. 



THE Almond groves are now one of the most charming 

 ■*■ features of many of the foot-hill districts of central Cali- 

 fornia, and, when in bloom, are as fragrant and beautiful as 

 the orange groves of the southern counties. Indeed, there is 

 no more attractive time than the flowering time of the Almond 

 for a visitor to go to the great centres of the fruit-industry. 

 The Almond, it is true, comes first, and is followed in rapid 

 succession by the Cherry, Peach and other fruit-trees. But the 

 Almond is peculiarly fresh and lovely in its season ; its petals 

 fairly cover the grass, and are blown far across the highways 

 in blush-tinted drifts. 



One must get out of the fog belt to find the successful Almond- 

 orchards. Niles, Livermore, Santa Clara, Los Gatos, Gilroy, 

 to the east and south of San Francisco Bay ; Sonoma, Santa 

 Rosa, Suisun, to the north and north-east. The tree will grow 

 almost anywhere, but it will not bear except in mild and shel- 

 tered situations. A few years ago ill-advised Almond-plant- 

 ing brought about a reaction, and numbers of orchards on 

 poor soil, or too much exposed to sea-fogs and winds, were 

 cut down for fire-wood. In the real Almond districts, how- 

 ever, no tree is more sure to pay well, one year with another. 



California growers have originated many new and very de- 

 sirable varieties of the Almond ; with no other fruit or nut 

 have the older varieties been so completely abandoned in 

 new plantations. The Languedoc varieties, introduced into 

 California as early as 1853, and later French importations, are 

 now superseded by seedlings of local origin, some of them 

 well worthy of trial by the great nurserymen of France, Spain, 

 and Italy. Larger and better nuts, heavier crops and a greater 

 degree of hardiness are the advantages of the California seed- 

 lings. Some of them yield nuts which bring, in the market, 

 two or three cents a pound more than the standard imported 

 varieties. 



The leading grower of new kinds, A. T. Hatch, of Solano 

 County, once exhibited 192 varieties of promise, four of which 

 are now recognized as commercial sorts, and are being planted 

 by tens of thousands all over the state. Professor E. J. Wick- 

 son, in his California Fruits (1889), mentions sixteen California 



