DEDICATING A IMING to create some permanent 
THE HOUSE distinguishing feature on the 
house and to give it that intangible im¬ 
press of the man who dwells in it several individuals have treated 
their house exteriors with some apt motto over the door or some 
device upon the wall or chimney. This field of activity holds 
many possibilities for those who consider the home as a much dif¬ 
ferent thing from the sum of the physical materials that were used 
in making the house. 
In the two previous issues of House & Garden short articles 
described what some have done to accomplish this impress of in¬ 
dividuality. The exterior devices of iron or copper, the use of tile 
and concrete plaques, the small symbolic figures, all these are of 
value to gain this result. At the christening of the house would 
this not be a fit consideration ? Each family surely has some par¬ 
ticular device or emblem, or the locality has some legend or his¬ 
torical fact that might be perpetuated. The suggestions that were 
previously given offer enough to build upon; beyond that it is the 
owner's special province and delight to use his own ideas. 
We still retain enough of the old ceremonials to place a corner 
stone and dedicate a public building to its future uses. In some 
sections the setting- of the roof tree is celebrated. The use of 
some distinctive device gives opportunity to the dedication of the 
newly built house to its services as a family home. Perhaps this 
might be considered a sentimental affection; but why deprive our 
lives of the small extra graces that such affairs might give? 
House warmings are held, isn't this a more genuine way to cele¬ 
brate? The family, friends and neighbors gather together, there 
is, perhaps, the intimacy of a dinner, then the unveiling of 
the device that marks the house with the character of its inmates. 
Whatever means are taken surely some slight ceremony would be 
well to mark the turning of the architect and builders’ product 
into its uses as a home. These things, unimportant as they are in 
themselves, do much to stir one's memory afterward and work 
toward creating the proper appreciation of the home as some¬ 
thing intimately connected with the family's life, not simply a 
mere dormitory and workshop. The pagan household gods have 
long- been removed from the house, is there not some little thing 
that those of us who do not entirely scorn sentiment can put in 
their places? 
T HE melancholy days that the poet 
sings of are fast approaching. 
There will be brown meadows and 
drifted dead leaves and bold blasts of driving winds. So far the 
poet is right. We never could quite agree with him, however, 
about the sadness of the fall. In our mind autumn was but the 
culmination of the great pageant of the year, the crowning glory 
of a procession of beauty. From the delicate hues of spring 
through the brilliance of summer to the vigor of the gorgeous 
autumn is a swelling scale, a crescendo of magnificence vith a 
grand finale. And there is nothing lingering, no tremulous weak¬ 
ness about it. With the October’s golden harvest and the electric 
thrill of November's glow, Nature, like the favorite at a ball, has 
danced up to the final number and with flushed cheeks and flash in 
eyes, though perhaps a trifle in disarray, with flying- hair and a 
danced out slipper retires to the comforting, revivifying sleep that 
follows the climax. There may be bathos in the confusion and 
the tattered decorations, but there is no wasting away. The final 
full note has been sounded and it is to the business of recupera¬ 
tion in rest that both Nature and the dancer turn. It is like a 
breath-drawing for another appearance, for renewed conquests, 
but no thought that this is the end of good things. Who knows, 
perhaps winter’s carefully spread coverlid hides smiling recollec- 
TIIE JOYOUS 
AUTUMN 
tions of a complete triumph and shining visions of successes. 
So much for the suggested similies of life and the year. The 
scientist of course sees the essential utility of each change in sea¬ 
son and finds no regret in an approaching autumn. It is not to his 
calculating glance, however, that this is directed. The ordinary 
mortal must find some emotional effect in all change. What it may 
be is determined entirely by where the emphasis is placed. 
It seems to us, though, that the gardener’s round of labors give 
him a right aspect on the seasons. With the first flash of the 
autumn sun he is stirred to new activities. Fall planting is due 
and he is busy again with the tasks of transplanting, sowing 
and pruning. He is not preparing a corpse for burial, he is giving 
the initial impulse to life, preparing his alchemist mixture to 
seethe softly and work quietly through the winter until its latent 
potentialities attain fruition in the spring. 
Again, what country boy is gloom ridden at autumn’s arrival? 
He may have cause enough in the unpleasant prospect of taking 
up old tasks, the return to stern duties, but there is the meed of 
livelier pleasure than the swimmin' hole or fishing offered. Is it 
not autumn’s seductive call that lures to the hunt, and drives him 
where the foxes are barking on the hillside or into the brush 
where with terrifying whirring the partridge seems driven up by 
some convulsion of the earth itself? There are deer tracks, too, 
at the lake, and the noise of men and dogs in the moon-lit bog — a 
vagabond army after coons. It is a time of excitement when he 
must swallow hard to keep the great swelling- of his heart from 
causing it to leap actually from his throat. Cider and apples and 
Thanksgiving—why go on with the catalogue ? The fall is the time 
to be up and doing, to run with quick pulse; not a suggesffon in 
it of withering and weakness. It used to belong to Bacchus and 
about the wine press rose its praises. Look at it from all sides 
and you will find no cause for long sighs at the parting year. 
Whatever your particular bent may be the season is now calling 
you. We speak to those who are garden lovers and urge them to 
prepare for spring, not for winter. 
THE ROADSIDE WE have spoken before of that 
C IRDEN pride in locality that might so 
well be cultivated but that seems in 
some ways to be sadly neglected among us here. Village improve¬ 
ment societies will carefully gather the waste paper from streets, 
build fountains and plant garden plots at square and station, but 
seem entirely oblivious to the disfiguring patchwork of ugly sign¬ 
boards that flank the walks and abut on the entrances to the town. 
Individuals will improve and beautify within their walls or at 
their gateways, but leave the borders of the road uncared for and 
without a thought. It is much like the slovenly school boy who 
washes that part of his face that is visible and leaves grimy the 
shadowy regions behind his ears and under his jaws. If something 
might be done to awaken a sense of individual responsibility, it 
would be a great accomplishment. The picturesque English 
hedgerows and the highway-bordering gardens that lend so much 
to the charm of England's countryside and for which it is so 
justly famous, these are the gifts of each resident, not the result 
of a widespread movement. 
There is an inspiration in what Mr. Eaton has to say m this 
issue of House & Garden that points a wav toward better things, 
and a simple course besides. His rural New England, unassisted 
by man, but not hampered by him, grows in natural beauty. 
There is a powerful sermon directed toward our present attitude 
and a fine appreciation of the humble beauties of the wayside that 
points a way for us. With our sensibilities aroused and the de¬ 
sire to create what he chooses to describe as the American gar¬ 
den that the Japanese would evolve were they native here, what 
wonders would result. Will you listen to his message? 
(234) 
