The Country Graveyard 
two here and 
there, but in 
masses. Sal¬ 
via is of a scar¬ 
let that fairly 
burns, and is 
also of a stiff 
habitof growth, 
but when it is 
used courage¬ 
ously the effect 
is sumptuous, 
splendid. Vis¬ 
itors to Mount 
A u b u r n m a y 
recall beds of 
it, near the 
crematory, that 
are like the 
Hash of red in 
sunset clouds. 
Their color 
rouses like a 
clangor of bu¬ 
gles. And so, 
if we would 
have Howers, in 
unclaimed din¬ 
gles and near 
fences and led¬ 
ges, we may 
safely plant 
wild ones and 
leave them 
to make head, massing them, in the first 
place, more densely than in nature. There 
is nothing finer than a thicket of wild roses 
or purple asters in flowering time, or a rock 
that is draped in wild clematis or woodbine, 
which may also be taught to climb about 
decaying trees outside of the cemetery and 
thereby heighten the beauty of the outlook. 
For a darker green than the grass we can 
safely use the low-growing varieties of cedar, 
and the same tree, close-set, is far better than 
a fence as a surrounding for the graveyard, 
or as a screen against unpleasant prospects, 
such as farmyards and factories. This is the 
one spire of vegetation that seems to fit the 
place, for it is churchly in its taper, serious in 
color, fragrant in odor; but it must not stand 
alone ; it must be grown in groups or walls. 
H ere, where nature claims its own again, we 
do not want to 
emphasize hu¬ 
man purpose 
and ownership 
with a staring 
fence, any more 
than we would 
vulgarize the 
place with elec¬ 
tric lights and 
picnics. W e 
do not want 
gaiety — the 
froth of beauty. 
Hence, we 
choose the ce¬ 
dar and the 
yew and the 
wild growths 
to soften the 
foreground in¬ 
to the sur¬ 
roundings, and 
if we find pines 
on the ceme¬ 
tery site, some 
can be left in 
clusters, but let 
them be funeral 
plumes above 
the graves of 
prophets. Ex¬ 
otics and biz¬ 
arre growths, 
like cacti and century plants, orchids and 
laughing blossoms of the hot zones, are 
misplaced near graves; the native should re¬ 
turn to what he knows, and dwell among 
flowers whose fragrance he breathed in life. 
Next to his opposition to trees, the 
countryman’s opposition to water is most 
surprising. In dry seasons the cemetery is 
so far from ponds and rivers that even the 
few who would be willing to refresh the 
place are unable to do so, at least without 
much trouble and cost. A little pool is 
sometimes found in a hollow, but it suggests 
malaria and mosquitoes more than fitness; 
and unless it has life and flow it is not to be 
tolerated. Why is it that, in the hill 
country, where brooks are many and clear, 
cemeteries are not made near them? I 
know one which overlooks a brook, but the 
A GREAT OAK 
The Dominating Object in the Graveyard at Salem , New Jersey 
