1^4 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



May, 1907 



Monthly Comment 



HE summer home is as old as history. Potent 

 ^ as the cities have always been for great 

 masses of population, the very development 

 ^^^^ of the cities has caused a reaction toward 



"TT^hS eH||| the country by those who lived in them 

 pJLgtDy E BjyBiiB 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 diflerent 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, gayetles 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. 

 I hose 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. 



