ROADSIDE GARDENS. 



463 



the barns and houses that now skirt a foul highway pushed 

 back into less publicity. They are private affairs. Why 

 should they be close up to the street, shutting out our 

 view of the distant landscapes and even of the nearby 

 meadows ? If set a little back, the cheapest cottage or even 

 a decent hut looks picturesque ; but when brought up, 

 pig-sty and all, to the roadside, they become disagree- 

 able. There are few drives in which the houses do not 

 detract from the charm of the excursion. Fine houses 

 are little better or more attractive. Who cares to ride 

 about to see what monstrous notions of architecture 

 thrive ? What we care for is to see the world as it was 

 made, not to look at our neighbors and smell their dinners. 



I know a few bits of county road that are as beautiful 

 as can be. These are where, for exceptional reasons, a 

 few neighbors have cooperated in planting down to the 

 roadside. One of these runs near my own home ; but 

 even here, where there is hardly a resident for half a 

 mile except college professors or lodges of college clubs, 

 the houses are not private. They are staring at the street, 

 and are too near the highway; still there is great gain 

 when shrubs and evergreens are allowed to grow naturally 

 down to the ditches. The planting of grounds simply 

 takes in the street, except the drive. But best of all is it, 

 when all the possible outlooks are secured and those who 

 travel on the street can see whatever fine things valley or 

 hill can present. Along the hillside to which I refer, on 

 one side, the valley is open to view, no trees being allowed 

 to grow as obstructions. Here is a superb feast for the 

 eye. Of course I do not expect roads to be led over steep 

 knobs in order to furnish outlooks and broad landscape 

 views, but when a road does climb a hill of necessity, 

 why not understand that it can minister to the eye and 

 mind ? I know roads that, with a bit of taste in planting, 

 would surpass the finest park in the world. But what 

 havoc is made ! what ugly cuts ! The banks are spoiled ! 

 The kingly trees are cut down ! The vines of bitter-sweet, 

 ivy and clematis are made horrible with brush. Is there 

 anything in the world more ugly than a roadside ditch ? 

 But there are hundreds of places where beautiful brooks 

 might tumble along fraught with music and beauty. 

 Here might be sweet water and perhaps miniature falls 

 made of sand, pebbles or rocks. Rustic bridges might 

 take the place of carpenters' planks, and in shady places 

 might grow ferns and wild flowers. It would take so very 

 little work, I often think, to make a strip of roadside an 

 ideal of loveliness. 



Indeed, I would make a distinct choice, and prefer to 

 ornament the street rather than the lawn or yard ; and I 

 would do this in the interest of a true social life. Let our 

 commonalty be where we meet in the most cheerful and 

 refined manner. It has been our habit to hold our com- 

 mon property as a place for refuse, weeds, ashes, stones, 

 and whatever else was too noxious to be retained on 



our private land. I am compelled, within five miles of 

 Utica, to drive through patches of Canada thistles and 

 burdocks, while piles of tin cans, broken chamberware, 

 brush trimmed from neighboring orchards, and every 

 imaginable sort of refuse fill up the street sides. I have 

 heard landscape gardeners urge that our flower lawns 

 should be far back from the road and somewhat secreted. 

 This may be good policy if we must have the present road 

 system, with its dust showers. If we can secure such 

 driveways as England possesses, then there is no reason 

 why our most beautiful lawns should not be for the public 

 eye, and while near the road, include also the roadside. 

 We are social beings, and the tone of society is largely 

 determined by the surroundings of social gatherings. 

 While insisting on delicious retreats, where I can com- 

 mune with nature alone, I would have just as delicious 

 resorts where we may commune with men. Think of the 

 powerful influence on the intellectual and social tone of 

 the people, which flower-bordered, clean and handsome 

 roadways would have ! The assthetic element has been 

 kept too much in abeyance in American character. With 

 the departure of hideous roadsides would go hovels and 

 pig-styes from adjacent property; people would feel that 

 the common road was, above all, to be freed from associa- 

 tion with the unsightly. I can foresee the time when our 

 highway system will thus become a great educator of the 

 people. Why, indeed, should it not become the continu- 

 ous garden of America, where roses and lilies smile under 

 lilacs and cherry trees, and greet us with wholesome odors 

 as we drive for pleasure or profit ; and the laborer would 

 be surrounded by our best thoughts as he hauled our crops 

 to market over good stone roadbeds. 



Have we passed the era when such a proposition as I 

 have urged will be scorned as impractical ? Who is go- 

 ing to waste money on the roadside ? As a matter of 

 fact, you cannot invest your money in a better way. It 

 is no more wasted on the roadside than in your garden. 

 A handsome street is the best advertisement of your town 

 or your property. If you desire to sell, nothing will 

 bring a purchaser so quickly as a fine frontage. We 

 should also remember that population has so re-adjusted 

 itself that we no longer own our country property for our- 

 selves alone. We are obliged to feed the cities ; and, 

 more and more of late, we are obliged to consider the 

 country as the temporary resort of the urban dwellers. 

 Crowded together for ten months, for two months they 

 flow over in our valleys to save themselves from degen- 

 eration. The country is full of tourists, and destined to 

 be so more extensively. These people seek the pleasantest 

 villages and finest drives. It is a matter of pecuniary 

 policy to adorn our roadways. I am not sure that it will 

 not be our best policy to make the roads a continuous 

 garden, and leave our private land wholly to production. 



Oneida County, N. Y. E. P. Powell. 



[ The Editor begs leave to suggest that a regular and continuous warfare on fences is 

 perhaps the most effective means of bringing about the establishment of Roadside Gardens.] 



