﻿164 
  

  

  AMERICAN 
  HOMES 
  AND 
  GARDENS 
  

  

  May, 
  1907 
  

  

  Monthly 
  Comment 
  

  

  HE 
  summer 
  home 
  is 
  as 
  old 
  as 
  history. 
  Potent 
  

   $j| 
  as 
  the 
  cities 
  have 
  always 
  been 
  for 
  great 
  

   ,J|j 
  masses 
  of 
  population, 
  the 
  very 
  development 
  

   '**& 
  of 
  the 
  cities 
  has 
  caused 
  a 
  reaction 
  toward 
  

   the 
  country 
  by 
  those 
  who 
  lived 
  in 
  them 
  

   through 
  choice 
  or 
  necessity. 
  Not, 
  of 
  

   course, 
  in 
  the 
  way 
  of 
  returning 
  to 
  the 
  soil 
  for 
  a 
  livelihood, 
  

   but 
  as 
  a 
  means 
  of 
  relaxation, 
  a 
  change, 
  a 
  respite. 
  But 
  it 
  is 
  

   nothing 
  new, 
  this 
  flight 
  into 
  the 
  country, 
  for 
  city 
  folk, 
  have 
  

   been 
  doing 
  so 
  for 
  centuries, 
  and 
  will 
  doubtless 
  continue 
  to 
  

   do 
  it 
  for 
  centuries 
  to 
  come. 
  And 
  a 
  very 
  agreeable 
  thing 
  it 
  

   is, 
  too, 
  to 
  have 
  one's 
  own 
  home 
  in 
  quiet 
  surroundings, 
  where 
  

   one 
  may 
  spend 
  the 
  better 
  part 
  of 
  the 
  year 
  in 
  peaceful 
  enjoy- 
  

   ment. 
  The 
  simple 
  life 
  requires 
  no 
  cultivation 
  in 
  the 
  country, 
  

   for 
  supposedly 
  it 
  is 
  the 
  one 
  form 
  of 
  life 
  that 
  is 
  not 
  only 
  con- 
  

   genial 
  to 
  the 
  soil, 
  but 
  which 
  is 
  deliberately 
  encouraged 
  by 
  it. 
  

  

  The 
  native, 
  to 
  be 
  sure, 
  will 
  hardly 
  admit 
  this. 
  His 
  life 
  

   is 
  to 
  him 
  too 
  utterly 
  simple 
  to 
  be 
  tolerated 
  a 
  moment 
  longer 
  

   than 
  the 
  direst 
  necessities 
  require. 
  He 
  arises 
  at 
  an 
  unearthly 
  

   hour, 
  performs 
  the 
  most 
  arduous 
  and 
  uninspiring 
  tasks, 
  has 
  

   no 
  relaxations 
  that 
  seem 
  to 
  him 
  relaxation, 
  and 
  retires 
  to 
  

   bed, 
  prostrated 
  with 
  fatigue, 
  at 
  the 
  earliest 
  possible 
  moment. 
  

   He 
  pants 
  for 
  variety, 
  he 
  yearns 
  for 
  activity, 
  he 
  hankers 
  

   after 
  excitement, 
  he 
  longs 
  for 
  unrest. 
  If 
  a 
  city 
  newspaper 
  

   comes 
  his 
  way 
  he 
  stumbles 
  through 
  its 
  columns 
  seeking 
  for 
  

   the 
  most 
  sensational 
  episodes. 
  His 
  unnourished 
  brain 
  cre- 
  

   ates 
  a 
  completely 
  artificial 
  existence, 
  in 
  which 
  all 
  sorts 
  of 
  

   impossible 
  and 
  exciting 
  events 
  occur, 
  and 
  in 
  which 
  he, 
  often 
  

   enough, 
  plays 
  the 
  part 
  of 
  unexpected 
  hero, 
  and 
  which 
  he 
  

   regards 
  as 
  the 
  real 
  life, 
  the 
  only 
  life 
  worth 
  living, 
  the 
  very 
  

   thing 
  to 
  do, 
  the 
  acme 
  of 
  human 
  bliss. 
  The 
  crowds, 
  the 
  rush, 
  

   the 
  turmoil 
  of 
  the 
  city 
  as 
  he 
  imagines 
  them, 
  sum 
  up 
  and 
  con- 
  

   tain 
  the 
  very 
  essence 
  of 
  civilization. 
  Perched 
  a-top 
  a 
  barrel 
  

   he 
  discusses 
  these 
  matters 
  with 
  his 
  fellow 
  sufferers, 
  and 
  be- 
  

   rates 
  the 
  fate 
  that 
  retains 
  him 
  amid 
  the 
  green 
  fields 
  and 
  

   shady 
  woods 
  of 
  the 
  country. 
  

  

  Quite 
  a 
  different 
  view 
  of 
  the 
  case 
  is 
  taken 
  by 
  the 
  city 
  

   gentleman 
  who 
  has 
  acquired 
  a 
  competency 
  and 
  retires 
  to 
  the 
  

   country 
  for 
  a 
  rest 
  and 
  a 
  change. 
  He 
  builds 
  himself 
  a 
  great 
  

   house, 
  he 
  starts 
  a 
  farm 
  on 
  the 
  most 
  expensive 
  scale, 
  he 
  

   installs 
  a 
  gardener 
  who 
  grows 
  beautiful 
  plants 
  that 
  the 
  owner 
  

   may 
  casually 
  glance 
  at 
  once 
  a 
  week 
  or 
  so, 
  he 
  lays 
  in 
  horses, 
  

   carriages 
  and 
  automobiles, 
  and 
  settles 
  down 
  to 
  a 
  quiet 
  exist- 
  

   ence. 
  The 
  end 
  of 
  every 
  week 
  finds 
  his 
  great 
  house 
  filled 
  with 
  

   guests, 
  who 
  conduct 
  themselves 
  in 
  the 
  rural 
  districts 
  exactly 
  

   as 
  they 
  have 
  been 
  accustomed 
  to 
  in 
  the 
  city. 
  As 
  many 
  as 
  

   possible 
  rush 
  off 
  in 
  the 
  automobiles 
  and 
  scour 
  the 
  country 
  

   roads 
  at 
  a 
  pace 
  that 
  is 
  equally 
  successful 
  in 
  preventing 
  a 
  vision 
  

   of 
  the 
  adjoining 
  landscape 
  and 
  in 
  arousing 
  the 
  ire 
  of 
  the 
  

   farmers, 
  who 
  want 
  only 
  the 
  particular 
  kind 
  of 
  excitement 
  

   that 
  appeals 
  to 
  their 
  personal 
  ideas. 
  Balls, 
  parties, 
  and 
  pic- 
  

   nics, 
  gayeties 
  of 
  every 
  sort, 
  the 
  city 
  life 
  transplanted 
  into 
  the 
  

   country, 
  magnified, 
  enlarged 
  and 
  exaggerated, 
  this, 
  to 
  

   many, 
  is 
  exactly 
  what 
  the 
  country 
  is 
  for, 
  and 
  for 
  nothing 
  

   else. 
  

  

  Between 
  these 
  two 
  extremes 
  — 
  for 
  they 
  are 
  extremes, 
  in 
  

   which 
  the 
  ills 
  and 
  advantages 
  of 
  the 
  country 
  are 
  exaggerated 
  

   in 
  most 
  singular 
  fashion 
  — 
  are 
  others 
  who 
  attack 
  the 
  problem 
  

   of 
  country 
  living 
  in 
  more 
  reasonable 
  ways. 
  Very 
  many 
  per- 
  

   sons 
  have 
  ascertained 
  that 
  it 
  is 
  quite 
  possible 
  to 
  thoroughly 
  

   enjoy 
  a 
  summer 
  in 
  the 
  country 
  without 
  the 
  burden 
  of 
  elab- 
  

   orate 
  housekeeping, 
  and 
  in 
  a 
  sane 
  and 
  reasonable 
  way. 
  A 
  

   modest 
  house, 
  modestly 
  equipped, 
  is 
  all 
  that 
  is 
  needed, 
  pro- 
  

  

  vided 
  it 
  is 
  situated 
  amid 
  beautiful 
  surroundings, 
  is 
  not 
  too 
  

   far 
  removed 
  from 
  the 
  base 
  of 
  supplies, 
  and 
  is 
  sufficiently 
  

   accessible 
  from 
  the 
  city 
  to 
  permit 
  the 
  ordinary 
  routine 
  of 
  

   existence 
  to 
  be 
  carried 
  out 
  without 
  annoying 
  interruptions. 
  

   Those 
  able 
  to 
  live 
  in 
  the 
  country 
  in 
  this 
  way 
  have 
  much 
  the 
  

   better 
  of 
  it, 
  and 
  can 
  snap 
  their 
  fingers 
  at 
  their 
  richer 
  neigh- 
  

   bors, 
  who 
  must 
  be 
  surrounded 
  with 
  a 
  retinue 
  of 
  dissatisfied 
  

   servants, 
  and 
  whose 
  household 
  affairs 
  are 
  conducted 
  with 
  

   the 
  same 
  fuss 
  and 
  at 
  the 
  same 
  expense 
  as 
  in 
  town. 
  

  

  In 
  undertaking 
  a 
  country 
  life, 
  whether 
  for 
  a 
  temporary 
  

   sojourn 
  in 
  the 
  summer, 
  or 
  for 
  permanent 
  residence 
  all 
  the 
  

   year 
  around, 
  it 
  will 
  be 
  well 
  to 
  remember 
  that 
  you 
  are 
  the 
  

   chief 
  person 
  concerned. 
  If 
  all 
  the 
  experiences 
  of 
  all 
  the 
  

   persons 
  who 
  ever 
  tried 
  country 
  life 
  were 
  collected 
  together, 
  

   classified, 
  arranged 
  and 
  annotated, 
  they 
  would 
  still 
  remain 
  

   the 
  individual 
  experiences 
  of 
  other 
  people. 
  If 
  it 
  be 
  true 
  

   that 
  what 
  one 
  man 
  can 
  do 
  another 
  can 
  do, 
  the 
  dictum 
  falls 
  

   to 
  the 
  ground 
  when 
  it 
  comes 
  to 
  removing 
  from 
  the 
  city 
  for 
  

   any 
  length 
  of 
  time. 
  Fortify 
  yourself 
  as 
  you 
  may 
  with 
  what 
  

   has 
  befallen 
  others, 
  be 
  as 
  completely 
  prepared 
  as 
  circum- 
  

   stances 
  may 
  permit 
  against 
  the 
  pitfalls 
  that 
  have 
  attended 
  

   the 
  career 
  of 
  others, 
  the 
  fact 
  remains 
  that 
  what 
  is 
  going 
  to 
  

   happen 
  to 
  you 
  will 
  be 
  new 
  to 
  you, 
  and 
  even 
  what 
  has 
  hap- 
  

   pened 
  to 
  others 
  will 
  take 
  on 
  a 
  fresh 
  and 
  unfamiliar 
  air 
  when 
  

   personally 
  applied. 
  

  

  And 
  of 
  course 
  things 
  are 
  going 
  to 
  happen. 
  You 
  have 
  to 
  

   find 
  out 
  if 
  your 
  land 
  will 
  grow 
  anything; 
  you 
  have 
  to 
  learn 
  

   if 
  your 
  chickens 
  will 
  lay 
  and 
  what 
  to 
  do 
  to 
  them 
  if 
  they 
  don't; 
  

   you 
  have 
  to 
  find 
  out 
  that 
  it 
  is 
  the 
  easiest 
  thing 
  in 
  the 
  world 
  

   to 
  be 
  fooled 
  in 
  a 
  horse 
  deal; 
  you 
  have 
  to 
  realize 
  that 
  expenses 
  

   are 
  often 
  larger 
  than 
  the 
  estimates 
  and 
  sometimes 
  greater 
  

   than 
  the 
  income; 
  you 
  have 
  to 
  find 
  out 
  that 
  the 
  country 
  

   dealer 
  in 
  food 
  supplies, 
  in 
  ice, 
  in 
  coal, 
  in 
  everything, 
  is 
  some- 
  

   thing 
  quite 
  different 
  from 
  the 
  grocer 
  or 
  the 
  department 
  store 
  

   in 
  town, 
  and 
  you 
  have 
  to 
  find 
  out 
  that 
  the 
  people 
  you 
  are 
  

   living 
  among 
  present 
  quite 
  unknown 
  types 
  of 
  humanity, 
  the 
  

   study 
  of 
  which 
  becomes 
  tiresome 
  when 
  forced 
  upon 
  you 
  with- 
  

   out 
  chance 
  of 
  change. 
  There 
  is 
  a 
  heap 
  to 
  learn 
  in 
  country 
  

   life 
  that 
  the 
  books 
  will 
  not 
  tell 
  you 
  of. 
  You 
  are 
  bound 
  to 
  

   lose 
  faith 
  in 
  the 
  written 
  guides, 
  and 
  are 
  lucky 
  if 
  you 
  come 
  

   out 
  even 
  at 
  the 
  end 
  of 
  the 
  season, 
  and 
  not 
  too 
  much 
  ex- 
  

   hausted. 
  

  

  And 
  the 
  country 
  folk! 
  They 
  never 
  realize 
  that 
  your 
  ideas 
  

   may 
  be 
  different 
  from 
  theirs. 
  You 
  have 
  no 
  sooner 
  arranged 
  

   for 
  your 
  house 
  and 
  established 
  yourself 
  in 
  it 
  than 
  you 
  become 
  

   the 
  most 
  interesting 
  persons 
  in 
  the 
  whole 
  county. 
  The 
  light 
  

   that 
  beats 
  around 
  the 
  throne 
  is 
  not 
  fiercer 
  than 
  that 
  which 
  

   discloses 
  all 
  your 
  doings 
  to 
  the 
  minds 
  and 
  eyes 
  of 
  a 
  country- 
  

   side 
  that 
  has 
  nothing 
  else 
  to 
  think 
  about. 
  Your 
  most 
  com- 
  

   monplace 
  actions 
  are 
  instantly 
  erected 
  into 
  monuments 
  of 
  

   most 
  profound 
  eccentricity. 
  Your 
  whole 
  life 
  history, 
  includ- 
  

   ing 
  many 
  items 
  that 
  you 
  must 
  have 
  forgotten 
  yourself, 
  for 
  

   you 
  do 
  not 
  recall 
  them, 
  is 
  subjected 
  to 
  a 
  scrutiny 
  that 
  would 
  

   shame 
  the 
  commentators 
  of 
  Shakespeare. 
  Your 
  slightest 
  

   remarks 
  are 
  treasured, 
  not 
  indeed 
  as 
  words 
  of 
  wisdom, 
  but 
  

   as 
  something 
  to 
  be 
  handed 
  back 
  to 
  you 
  at 
  some 
  remote 
  

   future 
  when 
  you 
  have 
  forgotten 
  all 
  about 
  them. 
  There 
  is 
  

   ampleness 
  of 
  beauty 
  in 
  the 
  country, 
  many 
  fields, 
  much 
  beau- 
  

   tiful 
  woods, 
  charming 
  scenery 
  and 
  innumerable 
  rural 
  

   delights; 
  but 
  of 
  personal 
  privacy 
  there 
  is 
  none 
  at 
  all, 
  and 
  

   personal 
  seclusion 
  hardly 
  comes 
  even 
  when 
  the 
  night 
  has 
  

   fallen, 
  the 
  windows 
  been 
  closed, 
  the 
  curtains 
  drawn, 
  and 
  the 
  

   sweet 
  peace 
  of 
  sleep 
  envelops 
  the 
  inhabitants. 
  

  

  