Cape Cod
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Garden and Forest
Garden and
Forest:
A Journal of Horticulture, Landscape Art, and Forestry
(1888-1897)
Garden
and Forest at the Library of Congress
with essays on the history and significance of
the magazine.
Garden
and Forest at the University of Michigan's Making of America
Advice on Cape Cod
gardening, Vol. 1, 1888
Cape Cod cranberry
cultivation, Vol. 3, 1890
The Province Lands at
Provincetown, Vol. 4, 1891
Cape Cod cranberries, Vol.
4, 1891
In the Shore Towns of
Massachusetts.-V., Vol. 5, 1892
(featuring
Orleans and Wellfleet)
In the Shore Towns of
Massachusetts.-VI., Vol. 5, 1892
Early Autumn near Cape
Cod, Vol. 5, 1892
review of The Old
Colony Town and other Sketches, by William
Root Bliss. Vol. 7, 1894
Seacoast
Planting, Vol. 8, 1895
Garden and
Forest. / Volume 1, Issue 24. [August 8, 1888, 286-287]
Correspondence.
To the Editor of GARDEN AND
FOREST:
Sir.--I should be grateful for some advice as to the best plants and
shrubs for the adornment of a small place at Falmouth, on
the southern extremity of Cape Cod. Excepting a strip of the original
ground, the land has been reclaimed from a salt marsh. The place seems
too limited to justify the calling in of
a professional landscape gardener, but I am inclined to spare no pains
to make the planting effective.
Falmouth, Mass.
[Our correspondent, in common with nine hundred and ninety-nine persons
in every one thousand, who want to treat a small piece of ground to the
best advantage, makes the
mistake of thinking that "the place seems too limited to call in the
aid of the professional landscape gardener." A trained artist is needed
to develop the possibilities of
beauty, convenience and usefulness in a small as well as in a large
piece of ground, and his knowledge and ingenuity may be more seriously
taxed to make the most of a plot of ground containing a few hundred
square feet than of a park of hundreds of acres. It is, of course,
quite outside our editorial duties or aims to give specific
instructions or advice about laying out or planting particular places.
Such advice to be of any practical value must be based upon exact
knowledge not only of local conditions and
surroundings, but of the taste and wishes of the proprietor in regard
to the character of his place and of the amount of money he is able or
willing to spend on it. It may be said generally, however, that this
particular location, in
common with many others on the shores of Cape Cod and at other points
on the New England coast, is exceedingly
exposed to high, cold winds, and that the soil is thin and light, and
therefore seriously affected by droughts in all but exceptional
seasons. Trees, even if they could be made to grow at all in a position
so near the snore, would not be very
satisfactory, and a lawn of close-cut turf had better not be attempted,
as it would be pretty sure to be burned brown all summer long, and to
be anything but an object of beauty. Much of the New England
coast-region is unsuited for gardening, as that term is popularly
understood, an art
which finds expression in trim lawns and in beds of plants with colored
foliage. The art of true gardening consists
in making the most of natural conditions, and not in attempting the
impossible or the unnatural for the sake of imitating the fashions of
other countries. A large part of the region in question is covered with
broad expanses of
shrubbery composed of dwarf Plums and Viburnums, Huckleberries
and Blueberries, Sumach and Wild Roses, Bayberry, Sweet Fern,
Inkberry, Smilax and other dwarf shrubs, combined together in natural
masses unsurpassed in their
peculiar way in any other part of the world, and which are bright and
fresh from the early days of spring until the autumn frosts make them
blaze with new beauty. It is from among these native plants of New
England that the material for the embellishment of the grounds of New
England sea-shore homes should be selected, and the
combinations of these plants which Nature makes are those which must be
studied, if the best which these homes can be made to express in beauty
is to be attained. Let any
one compare a mass of the native shrubbery sweeping down to the
shore on Mount Desert, or on the southern shores of Cape Cod, with the
ordinary improved grounds
which may be seen about the villas in these places, with brown lawns
and sandy walks, with here and there a stunted Scotch Pine or a
Cut-leaved Birch, and with beds half filled with forlorn Geraniums or
dried-up Coleus, and he will see that large expenditures of money, when
not directed by adequate knowledge and taste, may, in attempts at
gardening, expel from a spot naturally beautiful all its native charms,
without supplying anything in their place--either artistic or
pleasing.--ED.]
Garden and Forest. / Volume 3,
Issue 139. [October 22, 1890, 509-520]*
Cape Cod Cranberries.
CRANBERRY-GROWING is unique among our horticultural
industries. All a
man's knowledge of gardening and fruit-growing in general is useless
when he undertakes to grow this berry. He must lay aside his common
notions of soils and tillage, and even discard the very tools which
from boyhood he has considered essential to any kind of cultivation.
The Cranberry-growing sections of the country are
few and scattered. The Cape Cod district is the pioneer ground of
Cranberry culture, and it still undoubtedly holds first rank in general
reputation. In provincial parlance the Cape Cod region includes all the
peninsular portion of the state, beginning with the lower and eastward
projection of Plymouth County. The Cranberry region extends from this
eastern portion of Plymouth County eastward to the elbow of the
peninsula, or, perhaps, even farther.
Upon one of the upper arms of Buzzard's Bay is the
old town of Wareham. Here the tides flow over long marshes bordering
the inlet, and rise along the little river which flows lazily in from
the Plymouth woods. Here the sea-coast vegetation meets the thickets of
Alder and Bayberry and Sweet Fern, with its groups of Wild Roses and
Viburnums. And in sheltered ponds the Sweet Water Lily grows with
Rushes and Pond Weeds in the most delightful abandon. In the warm and
sandy glades two Dwarf Oaks grow in profusion, bearing their multitude
of acorns upon bushes scarcelyas high as one's head.
The Dwarf Chestnut-Oak is often laden with its pretty fruits when only
two or three feet high, and it is one of the prettiest shrubs in our
eastern flora.
Driving northward over the winding and sandy roads
into the town of Carver, where the largest Cranberry plantations are
located, our journey lies in the Plymouth woods. And here the surprises
begin! We see no fields of Corn and Grass, and snug New England
gardens, and quaint old houses whose genealogies run into centuries;
but we plunge into a wilderness! --not a second growth, half-civilized
forest, but a primitive waste of sand and Pitch Pine and Oaks! The
country has never been cleared, and it is not yet settled! And in its
wilder portions deers are still hunted and lesser game is frequent!
And only fifty miles away is the bustling Hub of the
universe!
This Cape Cod region is but a part of the sandy
waste
which stretches southward and westward through Nantucket, along the
north shore of the sound and through a large part of Long Island; and
essentially the same formation is continued along the New Jersey
seaboard. Similarities of soil and topography are always well
illustrated by the plants they produce. The Pine-barren flora of New
Jersey reaches northward into the Cape country, only losing some of its
more southern types because of the shorter and severer seasons. But
more diligent herborizing will no doubt reveal closer relationship
between New Jersey and Cape Cod than we now know. An instance in my own
experience illustrates this. The Striped Sedge (Carex s/hiata,
var. brevis) is recorded as a rare plant, growing in Pine-barrens from
New Jersey southward, and yet in these Plymouth woods, in the half
sandy marshes, I found it growing in profusion. Even eastern
Massachusetts is in need of botanical exploration! So the floras run
along this coast; and it is not strange that Cape Cod and New Jersey
are both great Cranberry producing regions.
The country comprises an alternation of low, sandy
elevations, and small swamps in which the Cassandra, or Leatherleaf,
and other Heath-like plants thrive. The Pitch Pine makes open and
scattered forests, or in some parts Oaks and Birches and other trees
cover the better reaches. Fire has overrun the country in many places,
leaving wide and open stretches carpeted with Bearberry
(Arctostaphylos) and dwarf Blueberries. Clear and handsome little lakes
are found in some parts of the wilderness, and everywhere one finds
clear and winding brooks, abounding in trout. And over all the open
glades the great-flowered Aster (Aster s ectabilis) is brilliant in the
autumn sun.
It is in the occasional swamps in this sandy region
that the Cranberry plantations or "bogs " are made. In their wild state
these bogs look unpromising enough, being choked with bushes and
brakes. I am filled with a constant wonder that the sandy plains are
not also utilized for the cultivation of Blueberries. These fruits now
grow in abundance over large areas, and they are gathered for market.
It would only be necessary to enclose the areas, protect them from fire
and remove the miscellaneous vegetation, to have a civilized Blueberry
farm. Certainly Cranberry and Blueberry farms would make an
interesting and profitable combination. The expense of growing the
Blueberries would be exceedingly slight, and the crop would be
off before Cranberry picking begins. To be sure, wild berries are yet
common, but they would not interfere with the sale of better and
cleaner berries which would come from improved plantations. Wild
Cranberries are still abundant over thousands of acres, and the
production of cultivated berries is rapidly increasing; yet the price
has advanced from fifty cents and one dollar per bushel, with an
uncertain market, fifty years ago, to fifteen and twenty cents a quart.
The largest cultivated bog in existence lies about
six miles north of Wareham, and is under the management of A. D.
Makepeace, one of the oldest and most experienced Cranberry growers in
the country. This bog is 160 acres in extent.
Other bogs in the vicinity belong to the same
management.
These bogs are all as clean as the tidiest garden.
The long and level stretches, like a carpet strewn with white and
crimson beads, are a most pleasing and novel sight. Here in early
September a thousand pickers camp about the swamps, some in temporary
board cabins, but most of them in tents. The manager furnishes the
provisions, which the campers cook for themselves, and he rents them
the tents. One hundred and twenty pickers constitute a company, which
is placed in charge of an overseer, and each company has a bookkeeper.
Each picker is assigned a strip about three feet
wide across a section of the bog, and he is obliged to pick it clean as
he goes. The pickers are paid by the measure, which is a broad sixquart
pail with ridges marking the quarts. Ten cents is paid for a measure.
There is wide variation in the quantity which a picker will gather in a
day, ranging all the way from ten measures for a slow picker to forty,
and even fifty, for a rapid one; and in extra good picking seventy-five
measures have been secured.
Various devices have been contrived for facilitating
Cranberry picking. The Cape Cod growers like the Lurnbert picker best.
This is essentially a mouse-trap-like box with a front lid rising by a
spiral spring. The operator thrusts the picker forward into the vines,
closes the lid by bearing down with his thumb), and then draws the
implement backward so as to pull off the berries. Perhaps a fourth of
the pickers use the implements. Children are not strong enough to
handle them continuously, and where the crop is thin they possess
little advantage. Raking off the berries is rarely
practiced in the Cape Cod region. It is a rough operation, and it tears
the vines badly. Late in fall, if picking has been delayed and frost is
expected or pickers are scarce, the rake is sometimes used. An ordinary
steel garden rake is employed. The berries are raked off the vines, and
the bog may then be flooded and the berries are carried to the flume,
where they are secured.
This picking time is a sort of long and happy
picnic--all the happier for being a busy one. The pickers look forward
to it from year to year, and are invigorated by the change and the
novelty.
The berries must now be sorted or "screened." If
there are no unsound berries, the fruit can be fairly well cleaned by
running it through a fanning mill; and some growers find it an
advantage to put all the berries through the mill before they go to the
hand screeners. A screen is a slatted tray about six feet long and
three and a half wide at one end and tapering to about ten inches at
the other, with a side or border five or six inches high. The spaces in
the bottom between the slats are about a fourth of an inch wide. The
screen is set upon saw-horses, and three women stand upon a side and
handle over the berries, removing the poor ones and the leaves and
sticks, and working the good ones toward the small and open end, where
they fall into a receptacle. The berries are barreled directly if they
are not moist, but if wet they are first spread upon sheets of
canvas-old sails being favorites, and allowed to remain until
thoroughly dry.
The cultivated Cranberry is a native of our northern
states. It was first cultivated about 1810, but its culture had not
become general until forty or fifty years later. The berries naturally
vary in size and shape and color, and three general types, named in
reference to their forms, were early distinguished-the Bell, the Bugle
and Cherry. So late as 1856 there was no record of any particular named
varieties aside from these general types. But there are many named
sorts in cultivation now. Mr. Makepeace showed me seven varieties in
his largest bog.
The common favorite is the Early Black, valuable
because it comes in three weeks ahead of the medium sorts. Picking
begins upon this variety about the 1st of September here.
When fully ripe, the berries are purple-black, and
for this reason they are favorites with consumers, for it is a common
though erroneous notion that pale berries are unripe. In late fall the
foliage of the Early Black assumnes a purplish tinge, which quite
readily distinguishes it from any other variety.
The Dennis is a bugle berry, of good
size, productiveness and bright scarlet color. The fruit is picked late
in September and early in October. The foliage is darker than that of
the Early Red.
The McFarlin, an oval, dark red berry, is probably
the largest late berry grown.
The Gould is a productive pear-shaped berry, of
medium season, with a bright purple fruit and light colored foliage.
The Lewis is probably the most brilliantly colored
of the Cranberries. It is a very bright glossy scarlet, medium in
season and pear-like in shape.
The Franklin is a comparatively new pear-shaped
sort, as late as Dennis, purple-red, with a high habit of growth. It
appears to have little to recommend it above older sorts.
A new berry which Mr. Makepeace showed me appears to
combine more merits than any berry which I have ever seen. Some twelve
years ago he observed the original plants in a neighbor's bog,
occupying a space about six feet square, and he procured a few
cuttings. The small bog which he now has of it is well worth a journey
to see. The berries are unusually large, cherry-shaped, a little later
than Early Black, and a bright rose-purple. It is probably the largest
early berry. I take pleasure in calling it the Makepeace.
It is an arduous duty to subdue a wild bog. The
bushes and trees must be removed, roots and all, and it is usually
necessary to remove the upper foot or so of the surface in order to get
rid of the roots, bushes and undecayed accumulations.
This process is termed "turfing." The turf is
commonly cut into small squares and hauled off. It is necessary to
leave the surface level and even, in order that all the plants may have
an equal chance and thereby make an even and continuous bed, and to
avoid inequalities in flooding. Although the Cranberry thrives in
swamps and endures flooding at certain seasons, it nevertheless demands
comparative dryness during the growing and fruiting season. The swamp
must therefore be drained. Open ditches are cut at intervals of four or
five rods, about two feet deep, and these lead into the main or
flooding ditch. It is also often necessary to run a ditch around the
outside of the bog to catch the wash from the banks. The areas enclosed
within the intersections of the ditches are called sections, and each
section is planted to a single variety. The main ditch is usually a
straightened creek, or it carries the overflow from a reservoir which
may be built for the purpose of affording water to flood the bog.
Growers always divert a creek through the bog if possible. In the Cape
Cod districts these creeks are often clear trout brooks. The main ditch
is strongly dammed to allow of flooding.
Before planting, the bog is sanded. This operation
consists in covering the whole surface with about four inches of clean
and coarse sand, free from roots and weeds. The chief object of sanding
is to prevent too rapid growth and consequent unproductiveness of
vines. In wild bogs, the Cranberry rarely roots deeply in the muck, but
subsists rather in the loose sphagnum moss. Vines that grow in pure
muck rarely produce well.
The sand also serves as a mulch to the muck,
mitigating extremes of drought and moisture. It also prevents the
heaving of the vines in winter, and it aids in subduing weeds.
Every four or five years after the bog begins to
bear it is necessary to resand it, in order to maintain productiveness.
These subsequent applications are light, however, seldom more than half
an
inch in depth. The Cape Cod bogs are fortunate in their proximity to
the sand.
It was once the practice to plant Cranberry-vines in
" sods," or clumps, just as they are dug from the swamps. There are
several vital objections to this operation, and it is now given up. It
is expensive, the vines are apt to be old and stunted, an even "stand"
can rarely be secured, and many pernicious weeds and bushes are
introduced. Cuttings are now used exclusively. These are made from
vigorous runners and are six or eight inches in length. They are thrust
obliquely through the sand, about an inch and a half or two inches of
the tip being allowed to project. They are set in early spring, about
fourteen
inches apart each way. In two or three weeks they begin to grow, and in
three or four years a full crop is obtained.
The subsequent cultivation consists in keeping the
bog clean. A small force is employed during the summer months in
pulling weeds. Under ordinary conditions it costs from $300 to $500 per
acre to fit and plant a bog.
There are those who contend that flooding is not
necessary. It appears to be generally held that bogs are
longer lived and more productive if judiciously flooded. The reasons
for flooding, so
far as I know, are five: (1) To protect the plants from heaving in the
winter; (2) to avoid late spring and early fall frosts;
(3) to drown out insects; (4) to protect from drought; (5) to guard
against fire, which sometimes works sad havoc in the muck. Mr.
Makepeace prefers to flood but once a year, unless insects appear in
serious numbers. He lets on the water in December and draws it off in
April or early in May. Just enough water is used to completely cover
the vines in all parts of the bog.
There are many hindrances to Cranberry growing. The
chief are spring and fall frosts, hail, numerous insects and some
fungous diseases. During the summer season the bogs are not flooded,
and insects must be kept in check by insecticides. Tobacco water is
commonly used. The liquid is applied with hand pumps from tanks. It is
supposed that it has some value as a fertilizer also.
Fifty barrels per acre is a good crop of
Cranberries, yet 200 barrels have been produced. The grower usually
gets from $5 to $10 per barrel of 100 quarts. It does not appear to be
known how long a well handled bog will continue to be profitable, but
Mr. Makepeace assures me that he knows a bog thirty years old which is
still in good condition.
-Professor L. H. Bailey in American Garden.
Garden and Forest. / Volume 4,
Issue 191. [October 21, 1891,
493-504]
Correspondence.
The Province Lands at Provincetown.
To the Editor of GARDEN AND FOREST:
Sir,--During my recent search for public holdings in the shore-towns of
Massachusetts, for the Trustees of Public Reservations, I examined the
province lands at Provincetown, and traced the course of legislation
regarding the title to them. They are undoubtedly the property of the
commonwealth, and thus constitute an important and extensive public
reservation already in existence. It comprises all that part of
Provincetown lying
west of the westerly fence of the eastern schoolhouse, and extends
southerly from the said fence about eighteen degrees east to the
harbor, and from the said fence northerly about eighteen degrees west
to the ocean. A large part of the village of Provincetown stands on
this land, and besides the tract thus built upon there is an unoccupied
area which the town officers estimate at 4,000 acres. At a very early
period in the history of the colony these lands were, by specific
action of the Government, reserved as a colonial
fishing-ground, and from it the colony obtained a varying revenue. At a
later date this territory was set apart as a
fishing-right to be held in common by the people of the province. The
records of the colony show that it was enacted by the court in 1661
that no stranger or foreigner shall improve-that is, use-our lands or
woods at the Capefor the making of fish without liberty from the
Government, and that all who obtain the privilege shall obey orders and
pay sixpence a quintal for the colony's use for all the fish they
catch. In 1670 the colonists
were required to pay sixpence a barrel for mackerel caught at Cape Cod,
and foreigners one shilling and sixpence.
After this there is a long succession of grants and
regulations for
this fishing-ground, which constantly assert the title of the colony to
these lands. Some of these grants were made to support schools, some
for bounties for soldiers or their widows. In 1690 the court
specifically asserts its possession of all the soil and royalties at
Cape Cod. In 1736 three men, as agents for the inhabitants of the
Precinct of
Cape Cod, presented a petition to the court asking that the precinct be
made a town, and the court granted the request, with
this condition, "Provided it do not prejudice the right and title of
the province to the lands nor obstruct any person in the fishery, which
is a privilege in common." The precinct was made a town in 1727, and
called Provincetown, and in the act of incorporation the term "province
lands " is first used officially. This is the act: " Be it enacted,
etc., That all
the lands on said Cape-being province lands-be and hereby are
constituted a township by the name of
Provincetown, and that the inhabitants thereof be invested with the
powers, privileges and immunities that any of the inhabitants of any of
the towns within the province by law are or ought to be invested with;
saving always the right of this province to said land, which is to be
in no wise prejudiced.
And provided that no person or persons be hindered or obstructed in
building such wharves, stages, work-houses and flakes and other things
as shall be necessary for the salting,
keeping and packing their fish, or in cutting down and taking such
trees and other materials growing on said province lands as shall be
needful for that purpose, or in any sort of fishing, whaling, or
getting of bait at the said Cape, but that the same be held as common,
as heretofore, with all the privileges thereunto in any wise belonging."
From 1727 to 1854 there is, so far as I can
ascertain, no record or
indication of any abandonment or modification of the title of the
province or commonwealth to these lands, and in 1854 the legislature
enacted that " The title of the commonwealth, as owner in fee to all
the province land within the town of Provincetown, is hereby assorted
and
declared, and no adverse possession or occupation thereof by any
individual, company or corporation for any period of time shall be
sufficient to defeat or divert the title of the commonwealth thereto."
"The provisions of the 12th section of the Revised
Statutes, chapter
119, shall not be held to apply to any of the province lands in said
town of Provincetown." These paragraphs are sections 8 and 9, chapter
261, of the Laws of 1854. The 12th section of chapter 119, here
referred to, provides for the acquisition of title to land by
undisputed possession or occupation for a prescribed term of years, and
these province lands are expressly excepted from its application. The
people living on these lands are merely occupants and holders. They buy
and sell the land, and give, receive and record warranty-deeds, but
these, though they may be good as against the claims of individuals,
are of no force or validity against the right and possession of the
commonwealth, which holds by an absolute title, indefeasible by adverse
possession or occupancy by any individual, company or corporation for
any period of time. There is no reason to suppose that the state will
ever disturb or eject
these occupants of the lands belonging to the commonwealth. Nobody, so
far as I know, is in favor of any
interference with the occupancy of those who have been permitted to
appropriate portions of these common lands to their individual use; but
a large number of the inhabitants of the town of Provincetown are
dwellers on the public domain, and have no title in fee to the land
which they occupy. The most important feature of the matter is the fact
that, besides the territory thus used and dwelt upon, there remains an
area entirely unoccupied which is estimated at about 4,000 acres, or
six square miles. This region embraces and constitutes the extreme end
of Cape Cod. About half of the tract is fairly well wooded, being
covered by a thick growth of " hard Pine" (Pinus rigida), Oak, Maple
and other trees, with a dense undergrowth of shrubs and vines. This
wooded portion lies nearest the village of Provincetown, and probably
contains about 2,000 acres. The part nearest the shore, constituting
the point of the Cape, appears to be of nearly equal area. It is a
region of moving sand, which is blown by the wind into great billows,
or irregular ridges, which are every year rolled farther and farther
inland toward the village, swallowing and burying the forest as they
advance. I saw Maple-trees more than twenty feet in height which are
entirely covered as they stand, except a few sprouts from the highest
branches, by which the tree is struggling to raise its lungs above the
suffocating sand. It is a painful spectacle to a lover
of trees. The whole of this area of 2,000 acres of unstable
sand was covered by a Pine-forest when white men first came to the
Cape. This desert is not natural, but was directly created by human
agency. The trees were cut away, and much of the space-perhaps all of
it-burned over, thus destroying the soil and the mat of vegetable
fibres which held it in place. All the conditions which maintained the
stability of the surface being destroyed, the sand of the shore began
to move inland before the wind, and it has continued to advance with
increasing depth, volume and velocity until now. The stumps of
Pine-trees are still visible where the wind blows the sand away down to
the original surface.
Much money has been expended in efforts to stay the
progress of
this
ruinous and resistless tide of sand, but nothing has been accomplished
except to demonstrate the futility of the methods employed. The
planting of beach-grass has been the means chiefly, or wholly, relied
upon to bind the shifting and flowing surface; but it is almost
entirely ineffective, owing to
the depth and mobility of the sand and the great force of the wind. A
ridge or plateau of sand, from ten to twenty feet in depth and several
acres in extent, is sometimes removed in a few hours. I think the whole
of the desert area might be reclaimed and rendered stable and
productive, and the wooded region defended from
further injury; but no effort for these ends can be successful unless
the means used are adapted to the essential
conditions and requirements of the problem. These have been entirely
disregarded hitherto. The work of restoration must, of necessity, begin
at the edge of the water, at the place where the wind which moves the
sand first exerts its force. A temporary
barrier or wind-break, extending a considerable distance
along the shore, would be required. A hedge or wall, formed of several
rows of closely planted Cedar-saplings, or
something of a similar character, would afford the protection needed,
and under the shelter of this hedge could be planted such cuttings and
young trees as are thought best adapted to growth in such conditions,
some species of Willow and of Poplar, the Pitch Pine and other suitable
trees. One species of Poplar grows rapidly and becomes very large along
the
streets of Provincetown, where it is absurdly called the "Silver Oak."
The hedge of Cedar-saplings would not be planted to
grow, but it would
last a long while, would catch most of the sand that might be raised by
the Wind between the hedge and the sea, and would afford shelter for
the growth of the cuttings and young trees planted at its foot on the
landward side. Only a narrow strip could be thus defended at first,
and, therefore, only a narrow strip could be planted at once with any
possibility of success. The planting of a broad area at the beginning
of the undertaking would be entirely unscientific and impracticable.
After the young trees of the first narrow strip of plantation along the
shore have begun to grow, another narrow belt, on the landward side of
the first, can be planted, but the requisite shelter for later strips
or belts of planting can be supplied only by the growth of the first
belt. The essential
requirements for the enterprise would be a small beginning, careful
attention to details, unremitting watchfulness and fostering of the
young plants and the extension of the plantations
by successive narrow belts. After a beginning is successfully made,
short lateral spurs could probably be extended from
the base line of the planting at frequent intervals and at various
angles. Much time would be indispensable, and great patience and
faithful industry. This state reservation is under the care of a state
agent who is appointed by the governor and council. He is by law
empowered to
give permits for the cutting of timber and of sods on the state lands.
The sods are not of grass, but of the roots of the bushes and shrubs
growing on the land, and when these sods are removed all the soil is
taken up with them, down to the inert sand, which is then blown away by
the wind, thus adding to the area of desert. The sods are much desired
and much used by the people of the village for "bulk-heads," terraces,
banks, walls and many similar constructions. It is almost the only
building material available for the people of the village without cost,
but it does not belong to them. It is the property of the state and
ought to be protected from spoliation.
The removal of the soil is robbery of the most fatal kind. The state
agent is not, in any considerable degree, efficient. He appears to be
extremely honest and conscientious in wishing to avoid
expense to the state in the administration of his office. He grants
very few permits. The fee for each permit is one
dollar. All fees are turned over to the public treasury, and the agent
is allowed three dollars a day for time actually employed in the duties
of his office. He told me that, to save expense to the state, he seldom
visits the reservation. I think that, as a matter of fact, he gives it
no considerable attention, and scarcely ever sees much of its area. As
a consequence, people do not take the trouble to apply for permits to
cut wood or sods, but take what they want without permission. The
reserve is despoiled of both wood and sods without scruple. Many of the
Portuguese laborers in the town obtain fuel for domestic uses from the
state lands, carrying home the wood on their backs after the regular
labor of the day is over; but the native Yankees also contribute their
full share to the spoliation.
The proximity of thousands of acres of wooded land,
without
apparent
ownership or efficient supervision, is a perpetual provocation and
inducement to theft, and it would have a similar effect
anywhere. I have repeatedly observed about the same state of things on
Indian reservations in Dakota and Idaho, and on the public domain in
the Coast-range region. While this Massachusetts reservation remains
unguarded and uncared for it must continue to exert a
demoralizing influence upon the
adjacent community. I think the law relating-to the administration of
the reserve should be so changed that no cutting of timber for use
outside of the limits of the reservation shall be authorized or
permitted, and
the removal of sods and soil should be entirely prohibited. The town
officers of Provincetown and other leading citizens would be glad to
see an efficient supervision of the province lands established and
maintained by the state. There is much talk of various schemes of
real-estate men for the use and improvement of this state property as a
means of attracting summer visitors and revenue to the village, but the
first thing for the people of the state to consider is the need of
proper care for the property of the commonwealth, and the adoption of
an efficient system of treatment for the reclamation of the desert area
and the preservation of the extensive wooded region which
still remains unburied. So far as can now be understood or foreseen,
the advancing sand will in time, if it is let alone, bury the remaining
woodland and
destroy the village and harbor.
Boston, Mass.
J. B. Harrison.
Garden and Forest. / Volume 4,
Issue 195. [November 18, 1891, 541-552]
The Cranberry Bogs of Cape Cod.
EVERYBODY knows that Cape Cod supplies the
world
with its best Cranberries, and that the business of growing that fruit
has transformed many hitherto worthless marshes in that region into
land worth a thousand dollars an acre and upward. The word "bog,"
however, carries with it to few persons any suggestion of rural beauty,
and yet the Cranberry Bogs of Cape Cod, apart from their economic
value, make pictures of rare attractiveness at all seasons, and
particularly at harvest-time. The ridges of rock and sand which form
the Cape would naturally be considered unpromising places to
search for ponds and lakes, but not only do such ponds abound in the
higher ground, but many beautiful trout streams wind down from the
hills into the bay or the sea. As these streams have comparatively
little fall, in the course of ages the booty which they have gathered
from the hills has been deposited on either side of them until in time
they are bordered by wide, marshy, bottom-lands, in which shrubs and
plants and trees which love water grow in tangled luxuriance.
Many of the Cranberry Bogs are made on the marshes
which border these streams. It is a slow process to cut off the thick
swamp-growth and grub out and burn the stumps and roots. In many places
it is necessary to "turf" the whole area, as
it is called-that is, to peel off one or two feet of the entire surface
soil with the living and dead, but undecayed, material which has
accumulated there. Then the land has to be drained, because, although
the Cranberry is a half-aquatic plant and needs to be flooded with
water at certain seasons, yet it must have dry and solid root-hold
during the season of growth and fruitage. This means not only that dams
are built across the track of the stream at intervals, but deep ditches
are cut across and often around the bog to catch the drainage from the
bank, so that a series of levels or sections is made, each with its dam
and system of ditches, until the bottomlands are all made ready.
After all this, the beds must be covered with sand
from three to five
inches deep--a laborious task where a hundred acres are to be dressed,
and one which would entail an expense that could not be borne but for
the happy circumstance that the material is close at hand in the banks
which border the bottoms. When the smooth sanded surface has been
prepared at a cost of from $250 to $1,000 an acre, long cuttings of the
plants are doubled up and thrust through it at intervals of fifteen
inches each way by means of a wooden paddle; these quickly root in the
rich soil below. During the first summer the slender vines, which
spread out in rays from each cutting, make a beautiful tracery on the
white sand, which helps to hold the warmth, to serve as a mulch, to
alleviate extremes of drought and dampness, to smother weeds, to keep
the plants from being lifted out by frost in winter, and to check a
rampant growth and consequent unproductiveness of the plants. The next
year the whole area is covered with a net-work of trailing plants and
leaves, and the third year, and for no one knows how long thereafter,
the whole field will be
covered thickly with short upright fruit-bearing branches so full of
berries in autumn that one can hardly run his fingers under them
anywhere without pulling out a handful.
Very beautiful in summer is this lawn-like expanse
of glossy green, and it is still more beautiful as the green or white
or red or dark purple fruit appears among the thick leaves. Standing on
the high bank which usually borders one of these bogs, and looking
across it, the level foreground, with its winding brook, stretches away
for ten or a hundred rods, according to the width of the bottom, while
the further boundary is usually another steep bluff, at whose base
Viburnums and Wild Roses, Bayberries and Sweet Ferns are rioting, and
above them are Dwarf Oaks, with a forest of Pitch Pine and Oak on the
summit to form a waving sky-line as a fitting finish to the prospect.
From some points, looking downward through the valley, glimpses of the
sea are caught; again a gray road is seen winding up the opposite slope
and finally lost in the woods, and every detail of the picture is
charming.
At the harvest-time a new element of interest is
added by the pickers, who camp on the bluffs and have a picnic for a
month or so. For the actual work of picking, white cords are stretched
across the bog about a yard apart at right angles to the straight line
of the ditch, where the gathering begins. Each picker gets down on his
or her knees and takes the fruit clean between two of the cords, so
that the entire force of harvesters move forward, side by side, like an
advancing line of battle; and as they are men, women, and children of
all nationalities and various costumes, the bright colors of their
head-gear and other apparel form a picturesque addition to the scene. A
small harvesting party is portrayed in the picture on page 545. Pickers
are usually employed in groups of a hundred or more, and as fast as a
measure, which holds six quarts, is filled by one, he turns it in and
receives a dime for it. It is not an uncommon thing for a
superintendent of a bog to receive from Boston by express several
thousand dollars in ten-cent pieces to be distributed among the pickers
for a day's work. Expert pickers sometimes make five dollars a day, and
when they use machines, with which the fruit is stripped off by
handfuls, they earn considerably more.
The Cranberry Bogs of Cape Cod furnish a striking
example of what may be accomplished by specialization in economic
horticulture. It has taken long years of experiment and practice to
determine what the Cranberry-plant needed in order to reach its highest
possible productiveness, and now, with intelligent preparation and
enrichment of the soil, close attention to every cultural detail,
constant watchfulness against weeds and insects, frosts and fungi, a
yield of 150 barrels of solid, evenly colored berries to the acre is
not surprising. How thickly the fruit must hang on the vines which
yield such a crop may be imagined, if it is remembered that this means
a barrel of berries on every sixteen feet square.
Garden and Forest. / Volume 5,
Issue
202. [January 6, 1892, 1-12]*
Correspondence.
In the Shore Towns of Massachusetts.-V.
To the Editor of GARDEN AND FOREST:
Sir,--Orleans is a town of beautiful landscapes and attractive
building-sites, and the summer people are beginning to appropriate
them. A wise foresight would provide a large area here for out-of-door
rest and recreation, a pleasant reach of shore-land, where thousands of
inland people might bathe and walk by
the sea, but there is no park or common or public beach.'
The time is coming, as in other shore regions, when there will be
throngs of people all summer long-the autumn is the best of the year on
the Cape-and when there will not be much more space or freedom for them
than convicts enjoy in
the state prison, marching in lock-step to dinner and away from it
again. The summer dwellers here will have their rooms in the cottages
and in great hotels and boardinghouses, and
they will have the freedom of the sidewalk and the public road. There
will be no rambling over breezy uplands, or
musing where the rolling surf beats and thunders on the shore. The
uplands will be an almost continuous village, and the
shore everywhere will be in somebody's backyard. Those who wish to see
the Cape country before its wildness and freedom are displaced by the
new stage of civilization,
with its warnings "Private grounds" and "Keep off the grass,"
forbidding visitors to leave the highways, should visit it within the
next few years. Orleans can advertise one attraction which I suppose
not many towns can rival. The alms-house is not needed for its original
purpose, for long and long it has had no pauper tenants, and
has been constantly let for a dwelling. Think of living in a town
where even the poor-house brings in an annual revenue! Who says
the Capeis a barren region and poor? There are many inland ponds or
lakes here, some salt, many fresh. If they had been made expressly for
purposes of pleasure and recreation they could not have been better.
The Orleans Cemetery Association owns the new part of the cemetery. It
is
on a hill, with a fine view of the ocean and bay, and the summer people
go there in numbers. The old part is not so high. The title to it is
probably in the town. There are three wind-mills in Orleans, each about
150 years old. A man from the city with a new place here thought he
would buy one of these mills and set it up in his grounds as an article
of " bigotry and virtue," but the owner of the mill asked $300 for it.
The summer resident concluded that he would try to get along without a
wind-mill, and the " boom " in these antiquities came
suddenly to an end. The town clerk bought one fourth of the one at
Orleans village for $25, and it pays for itself by its tolls every
year. These mills are about thirty or thirty-five feet high, and twenty
feet in diameter at the base, which is square or octagonal. They are
not picturesque objects, though
it is the fashion to say they are. They are too small, and all their
lines too severely simple to be impressive, and they are interesting
only because they are unfamiliar to most visitors.There is a valuable
public library here, and the town owns a very small area around the
library building. The town-hall lot should be considerably extended
while land is cheap. It is far too small for permanent public
convenience. Hon. John Kenrick, A. T. Newcomb, David L. Young and
George S. Nickerson are much interested in the objects of the Trustees
of Public Reservations, and will aid them in any convenient way. There
was a meeting here early in December to consider
the need of open spaces for public resort. After experimenting with the
topic at meetings in Boston and at Provincetown I found here that an
average country audience responds readily to a direct presentation of
the essential facts and obvious deductions related to this matter. It
is always interesting to try the effect of a new subject on audiences
of different kinds. Eastham has no considerable public holdings. The
early
history of the town is interesting, but it receives little popular
attention. I noted that in 1705 the town voted to fine any freeman
living within seven miles of the polls if he failed to attend an
election. Some interesting experiments in Asparagus-culture made
here during the last few years give promise of a new and highly
profitable industry for farmers and market-gardeners, and
Turnips grown in this region are said to distance all competition.
Under existing local conditions such facts are of great
interest and importance.
Wellfleet is an attractive town. All its interests
are at present much depressed by the decay of the old industries of its
people-fishing, whaling and boat-building. Much land has been bought
here by non-residents within a
few years, but not much of it has been occupied or improved. The town
formerly owned Great Island and Beach Hill, but sold these holdings a
few years ago to Mrs. France B. Hiller, of Wilmington, Massachusetts,
who also bought much land of private owners in the town. I believe she
is to expend a specified sum within a certain term of years in
improving the lands bought from the town, otherwise the title will
revert, and the property become again a public possession.
No improvement has yet been made. People in the town say that many
persons made claims for compensation for their rights in one of the
private estates bought by Mrs. Hiller, and that " she bought them out,
a thousand of them, for a dollar apiece. Whoever wanted a dollar said
he was one of the heirs, and she paid him a dollar, and he signed away
his right, whatever it was." Perhaps this is the beginning of the
growth of a legend. The town long ago planted a considerable tract on
Great Island with Pines, and they have grown well. It owns a small
piece of woodland-no one knows its area-which supplies all the fuel
needed for the schools of the town, and will do so for many years to
come, though the timber does not grow as fast as it is cut. It is but a
few acres in extent, and is said to have belonged to the last survivors
of an Indian tribe, and to have reverted to the town at their death.
Wellfleet recently
bought a playground near the High School building at a cost of $150.
The area is 280 by 286 feet. There is an old cemetery on Taylor's Hill,
owned by the town. Its dimensions are 171 by 144, 149 and 167 feet.
Beach grass, no trees. The hill is seventy or eighty feet high. No
interments for many years. A land company is operating at South
Wellfleet, and has sold hundreds of lots. Wellfleet had once 160 sail
of seagoing
vessels, now not over twenty. The valuation of property for taxation is
declining. A profitable beginning at garden-farming has been made here
and in the next town, Truro, and there is room for a great extension of
this industry in both towns. There are some historic places in Truro
which should be marked, and the early history of the town is worthy of
far more attention than it receives from the present inhabitants.
Popular interest in the local history will probably have a new
development, as Mr. Shebnah Rich, of Salem, has written an
interesting and valuable history of Truro. Several small tracts of land
have reverted to the town by non-payment of taxes. None of them is
suitable for a reservation for public resort. All visitors here go to
Highland Light. I refer my readers to the accurate and entrancing
description of the excursion in
Mr. Frank Bolles' new book, "The Land of the Lingering Snow." All this
shore should be forever accessible to the public. (My report on
Provincetown was published in GARDEN AND FOREST for October 21, 1891.)
I have just reread Thoreau's book on Cape Cod. It is
interesting but
one-sided, as it was meant to be. The author walked along the shore,
keeping to the very edge of the water nearly all the
way down the Cape. He did not see the country inland, and appears to
have had an entirely erroneous idea of it. He says
himself, " Our story is true as far as it goes. We did not care to see
those features of the Capein which it is inferior or merely
equal to the mainland, but only those in which it is peculiar or
superior. We cannot say how its towns look in front to one
who goes to meet them; we went to see the ocean behind them. They were
merely the raft on which we stood, and we took notice of the barnacles
which adhered to it, and some carvings upon it." The Cape region is
much
better wooded, has better soil, and is far more interesting and
attractive than his account of what he saw along the beach has led
people to believe. His book is usually read as if it were an adequate
description of the Capecountry; but all his readers should
make large allowance for Thoreau's love of paradox, even when he
has seen what he describes. I suppose that what he says of the few
people whom he saw during this excursion is strictly true, but it does
not apply to the Cape people in general any more than to the people of
the author's own town of Concord; or, to give a better idea of it, it
is exactly of
a piece with his description of Boston: " I see a great many barrels
and fig-drums, piles of wood for umbrellasticks, blocks of
granite and ice, great heaps of goods, and the means of packing and
conveying them, much wrapping-paper and twine, many crates and
hogsheads and trucks, and that is Boston. The more barrels, the more
Boston. The museums and scientific societies and libraries are
accidental. They gather around the sands to save carting. The
wharf-rats and custom-house officers and broken-down poets, seeking a
fortune amid the
barrels, their better or worse lyceums and preachings and doctorings,
these, too, are accidental."
The wonderful "CapeCountry," with its indefinable
charm, seems to me the most interesting region in New England, or
anywhere. There ought to be a new book about it. It has no such place
in our literature as it deserves. As I walked through it, the
extraordinary purity of the air made me feel that I should like to be a
gypsy and camp out in all the towns. After we pass Chatham, going down
the Cape, the atmosphere is the same as if we were on a small island
far out at sea.
Every possible breeze is a sea-breeze, no matter
from what quarter it blows. I once camped out for a while in the snow
on the mountains in the Crater Lake region, in sight of Mount Shasta,
and that is the only time I have ever tasted elsewhere an atmosphere so
vivifying as that of the Cape Cod country. The number
of ponds and lakes on the Capeis much greater than most people know,
and the inland scenery is serene and restful,
but not dull or tame. For people who want sea-air our country has no
better region, and in a few years it will be
thronged and crowded by summer dwellers, from Provincetown to the
shores of Buzzard's Bay. It will be a paradise for women and children
while the wildness and freedom remain unspoiled. Unless great areas
here are made public holdings, free for the people's enjoyment forever,
the time will come when the tired dwellers in the cities, and in the
vast interior of our country, who are driven by the heat of summer to
seek rest and new life by the sea, will find here the city over again,
and be "cribbed, cabined and confined" in conditions very like those
from which they are trying to escape. That would be a sad sight for
thoughtful men.
Franklin Falls, N. H.
J B. Harrison.
Garden and
Forest. / Volume 5, Issue 209. [February 24, 1892, 85-96]
In the Shore Towns of Massachusetts.-VII.
To the Editor of GARDEN AND FOREST:
Sir,--While my principal errand in the shore towns was to find out what
open spaces for public resort have already been provided, I also tried
to learn as much as possible of the industries
and resources of the people, of their thought and public spirit, of the
local history, and whatever might tend to promote the
objects of the Trustees of Public Reservations. I found everywhere
recent changes in the ownership of land and a movement
of people of means from the cities and the interior of the
country to the shore regions of the state. I found leagues and leagues
together of the shore-line all private holdings,
without a rood of space in these long reaches to which the public has a
right to go. I walked across the domain of one man who owns about six
miles of shore-line. I found a great
population inland hedged away from the beach, and all conditions
pointing to a time, not remote, when nobody can walk by the ocean in
Massachusetts without payment of a fee, as we formerly had to pay for a
glimpse of Niagara. I could see that the movement for open spaces for
public resort has vital relations to civilization, and has been
instituted in response to a pressing need. I note some of the
impressions which were oftenest repeated and most distinct.
1. Except in a few instances, the public holdings in these towns have
not been measured, and their area is unknown. It would be well to have
them accurately surveyed, the bounds marked and their area made a
matter of public and authoritative record.
2. In a large proportion of the shore towns the public holdings have
diminished in extent. Not only have all the old common lands, town
pastures, woodlands and extensive shore holdings been parceled out to
private possession, but the towns have permitted serious encroachments
upon the smaller public holdings which were intended by the founders to
be permanent. It is often evident that the first settlers had a pretty
clear idea of the value of open spaces for public use in towns and
villages, and they showed much foresight and public spirit in
providing for them. But in later times these public holdings became the
object of perpetual assault and invasion, and an astonishing amount of
energy and ingenuity has been employed in the effort to appropriate
public property to private use
and possession. It often seems that the same labor in any legitimate
industry might have brought prosperity to men who always remained poor,
but they appear to have attributed their
poverty to the failure of their attempts to seize the last small
remnants of the public holdings of their towns. Those who have wished
to despoil and appropriate the property of the town have, however,
usually found their opportunity and
incentive in the indifference of the community regarding public rights
and duties, and invaders of the public holdings have gained title by
undisturbed occupancy. The man who has wrongfully seized and kept the
largest portion of the town lands is often regarded with admiration.
"He was too long-headed for the town; he beat'em at last."
3. In a large proportion of the shore towns there are no open spaces of
any kind for public resort. Some inconvenience is already felt on this
account, especially in the matter of places for picnics and out-of-door
assemblies of the country people.
4. Wherever the summer people have bought land on the sea-shore they
show a disposition to exercise the right of exclusive
domain, and to repel as trespassers all who wish to enter upon their
grounds, and the people of the region are thus excluded from places
where rights of public resort and passage have been exercised for
generations. Even where the ancient public rights are clearly legal
they are being generally relinquished.
5. The most important feature in the present condition and prospects of
the shore towns is the change in the population which is going on
everywhere, and the resulting transfer ofthe title to the land to new
holders. There is a general movement of
moneyed people from the cities and towns of the whole country east of
the Mississippi River to the shore towns of this state. Individuals,
companies and associations are buying land
everywhere along the shore. Besides what is done openly, some citizen
in each town acts as agent for principals who prefer not to be known.
Some of these say they are buying for New
York men, but capitalists in various interior cities are investing
here. It is largely a movement of people able to have fine places for
either summer occupancy or permanent residence by the sea. The extent
of some of these new holdings on the
shore is remarkable and ominous.
6. Except at Salisbury Beach, Plum Island and a few other places there
is not yet much foresight of the need of sites for summer cottages to
be leased to people of moderate means. Most of the real-estate men
prefer to sell their land outright. They do not want the trouble of
leasing it or of collecting rents. The
hope of a great advance in the price of their land is more attractive
to them than a permanent revenue from property requiring
supervision and management. Yet even money needs care and oversight,
unless it is handed over to the endowment
societies or invested in some of the insecurities with which New
England people have made acquaintance during the last few years. At
some points on the shore money invested in cottages or sites rented to
persons of small income would probably yield a good return.
7. Many farmers and residents in the shore towns have recently sold
their land at very low prices, being rather surprised at any actual
offer. When it sells at a great advance soon afterward,
they feel that "the times are out of joint." When the native farmers
sell their land, they ought to have fairly good prices for it. It is
not likely that many of them will ever own land again.
8. Many of these men will be obliged to find new occupations, in order
to make a living. The industries of the shore towns will be greatly
changed by this movement into them of so many people, who seek only
residence and recreation. Population of this character does not invite
or support manufactures,
but distinctly repels them. The old industries--fishing, whaling and
ship-building--are nearly extinct, and much depression, anxiety and
hardship result from the failure of the accustomed means of obtaining a
livelihood. Some young men may find employment as coachmen, gardeners
and common laborers for
the summer residents, but foreigners from the cities. are more likely
to fill these places, and such communities
do not offer employment to many laborers of any class except cooks and
house-servants.
9. It is time to inquire what resources or opportunities will remain
for the native people of the shore towns. There is one resource which
has received comparatively little attention of late--the
soil. The soil of most of the shore towns of Massachusetts
appears to me much better than the popular estimate of it. It has
greater capabilities than are yet recognized. This is especially true
of the Cape Cod country. The soil there is better than that of southern
New Jersey, and I have seen many Massachusetts men in Dakota, Montana
and Idaho trying, in great privation, to make a living in regions much
more forlorn and hopeless than any part of the shore country of the old
Bay State. The productive power of the soil should be tested with crops
for modern markets. It is not yet known what can be most profitably
grown. Asparagus has been tried in Eastham and
Orleans with encouraging results, and Turnips grown in other towns are
said to distance all competition. The Cranberry industry is still
expanding, and fruit-growing and
marketgardening can probably be extended almost without limit and yield
a good profit on the labor of the owners of the land. I think these
towns might yet support a great population by a highly developed
agriculture and horticulture, and that the owners of
the land might wisely keep it and cultivate it. This would tend to
delay the complete absorption and appropriation of the
shore regions by summer residents from the cities, and would render the
transition to new conditions less sudden and abrupt than it is likely
to be without this modifying effect, and such a postponement of the
coming change is in every way desirable. If the farmers and land-owners
of the shore towns can adapt themselves to the new conditions of life
and make a good living out of their land, they would better hold on to
it and stay where they are. But the army of summer incursionists will
win in time, and will ultimately " occupy the land," as few American
farmers have foresight enough to hold out against the offer of "a good
price."
10. For any considerable improvement or development of the resources of
these towns two things are indispensable--first, a readier acceptance
of the necessity of downright hard work; and,
second, a greater flexibility of mind and disposition on the part of
many of the native inhabitants, enabling them to recognize
the changing conditions of the time, and to take advantage of the
opportunities which these changes present.
11. Although this movement and incursion of a new population is going
on all around them, many of the native inhabitants are not aware of
it. They know that two or three farms near them have been sold
and have heard that a land company has bought
a stretch of shore in the next town, but they do not put these things
together or see their connection with a general movement. They have not
observed that there is any movement or tendency in any direction,
except that "times have been getting worse for some years now." They "
rail at fortune in good set terms," and would rather rail than work.
They lament the decay of the old good times, when their town had a
fleet of several hundred sail and every man on Cape Cod was the captain
of a ship, and they have no perception of
the chances which the present time offers to resolute and capable men,
and they thus sometimes neglect and reject opportunities of great value.
12. Some of the native people have a feeling of impatience regarding
the changed conditions around them. They are depressed and snappish,
and so make unfavorable impressions on
strangers who are looking for land, or studying the country with a view
to a choice of regions for investment. They do not
think of the possible effect of civility or its opposite
upon their own interests and affairs. One man, who found that he had
been rude at the wrong time, remarked, in his astonishment, "I didn't
suppose he was lookin' for land. I could a' sold him just the piece he
wanted."
13. A wholesome competition in hotel-keeping would be a great benefit
to some of the towns. There are some excellent houses which attract
summer visitors, and give to all strangers
favorable impressions of the country. Others reminded me of the
mining-camp lodging-houses in the Rocky Mountain and Coast-range
regions, and these hotels exert a potent influence in
keeping people away from their neighborhood. I saw a New York man
treated very uncivilly by the clerk and the company of hangers-on in
the office of one of these houses. As we
walked to the railway station next morning he remarked:-- "Some men are
naturally civil; they are born that way; and a man with any sense
learns to be civil because business requires it; but some infernal
fools won't be civil even when
they could make money by it." In another place I was talking with a
town officer by the road-side, early in the morning, when some Boston
people came along. They had passed the night at the hotel, and, finding
it intolerable, had started out to try to find breakfast somewhere
else. The ladies of the party were homesick, and wished they could take
a train for Boston at once without waiting for anything to eat. The men
joked the resident about his town and the hotel. He laughed, but made a
gesture of vexation as he replied: Yes, it's an old story. Everybody
complains. Those who go there never want to see the place again. It
would pay the town to buy the house and shut it up."
14. All the pleasant and comfortable sites along the seashore of
Massachusetts are likely to be taken up, either by summer dwellers or
permanent residents, before any general attention is given to the
interests involved. The movement toward the shore has only fairly
begun, and it is certain to increase
with the density of the population of our country and the growth of
wealth. Even now along vast reaches of the coast there is no area
outside of the narrow highway to which the public has a right to resort
to enjoy the sight or air of the sea. These conditions will be
intensified, and the people of the state will be excluded from all
interesting and attractive portions of the shore. These are abnormal
and undesirable conditions, unfavorable to civilization, and all
possible wisdom and foresight should be employed in the effort to
secure adequate open
spaces for public resort at different places along the coast.
15. Two questions constantly present themselves to one observing
present conditions and tendencies in the shore towns.
a. Should there not be a broad public road or highway, or strip of
public land, along the whole length of the sea-shore of
the state? It need not always follow the water's edge, perhaps, but
could be carried inland above the worst marshes.
b. Would it not be well to consider the question of limiting the length
of the shore-line or ocean front of private holdings?
The extent of the shore-line of the state is impassably limited, while
the population of the country is certain to increase to an extent which
is now almost unimaginable. Is it consistent with the
public welfare that a few persons should have absolute
possession and control of unlimited areas of the shore? What are the
actual benefits which a man derives from the exclusive ownership and
occupancy of four or five miles of sea-shore? What are
the reasons which justify such a monopoly? The problem of title to the
shore, and of the use and enjoyment of it by
the people of the state, will in time be a vital and important
public question here.
16. The subject of adequate playgrounds is forcing itself upon public
attention in some of the shore towns, where the right of peaceable
assembly out-of-doors is denied to boys, and they have no right to meet
anywhere in the open air for athletic exercises, amusement or
self-improvement. Every village and neighborhood should have
out-of-door places of resort for the happy play and education of the
children and youth of the region.
17. Some methods of acquiring public reservations are already provided
by law in Massachusetts. There is, I believe, no general law under
which towns may acquire land for the establishment of a system of
water-supply. The towns which have done this have acted under separate
special acts. But there is an act which enables water boards of towns
to condemn land to
protect the purity of their water-supply.
18. Chapter 157 of the laws of 1885 enables village improvement
associations to improve public grounds or open spaces in any of the
streets, highways or townways which the town may designate as not
needed for public travel. They may grade, drain or curb such spaces,
may set out shade or ornamental
trees, lay out flower-plats, erect fences or railings, and otherwise
improve such spaces, subject to the authority of the Selectmen or Road
Commissioners. Approved April 13,
1885.
19. The Public Domain Act, approved May 25, 1882, authorizes a public
domain loan and the taking of land by any town or city for the
preservation, reproduction and culture of forest-trees, and for the
sake of the wood and timber thereon, or for the preservation of the
water-supply of such town or city. The title of all lands taken under
this act shall vest in the commonwealth, and shall be held in
perpetuity for the benefit of the town or city in which such land is
situated. I think no action has
ever been taken under the provisions of this law, and it is not likely
that it will ever be carried into effect in practice.
20. Under the Park Act, approved April 13, 1882, towns and cities may
take land within their limits for parks by vote of two thirds
of the legal voters present and voting in a legal town meeting called
for the purpose, or in a city by the vote of twothirds
of each branch of the Council. The act authorizes bonds for a public
park loan. Land beyond their own limits cannot be reached by towns or
cities under this act. A number of towns
have taken action under its provisions.
21. In Chapter ***Iog of the Laws of I882 county commissioners are
required, on request of ten or more freeholders, to ascertain the
correct location of a public landing if it is doubtful or not readily
known, to erect necessary bounds, and to make record of their
proceedings, as in the case of highways.
22. The act to incorporate the Trustees of Public Reservations,
approved April 21, I8gr, ***confers powers which are practically almost
unlimited within the scope of the objects for which the board was
created. The corporation is authorized to acquire and hold by grant,
devise, purchase or otherwise real
estate, such as it may deem worthy of preservation for the enjoyment of
the public, to the value of a million dollars, and
another million of real and personal property to pay for taking care of
the first million's worth, and to support or promote the objects of the
corporation. The board can apply and use its funds in any way or manner
adapted to support or promote these objects. No doubt the limitation as
to amount could be extended if necessary, so that the board could
receive and hold all that may be offered to it. It was understood at
the time of its passage that this act would meet a want already
existing, that some persons had property which they wished to transfer
to such a corporation to be held for public uses,
and that such gifts would be offered at once. The immediate
consummation of such purposes would be a useful advertisement of the
objects of the board.
23.
The newspapers have been most prompt and cordial in their recognition
of the undertaking, and their aid has been so intelligent and efficient
that the popular knowledge of the enterprise is much more extensive and
substantial than we could have expected to produce in so short a time.
There is, however, no reason to expect that the objects of the movement
can
be attained without considerable direct effort to promote and support
them. Means will be required for the systematic propagation and
diffusion of ideas until the people of the state in general regard the
enterprise seriously, and recognize its
relations to civilization and the public welfare. If the movement is to
be adequately successful much repetition will be necessary in the
educational work required to produce a distinct and fruitful impression
on the public mind.
24. Most people are so busy that but a limited amount of mental
alertness or energy remains available for the objects of this movement.
There is always much vague talk about progress, or the capacity for it,
but no analysis of the subject has been seriously attempted in this
country. I suppose the most that can be said by thoughtful men
regarding it is that a narrow zone of improvability runs through the
life of the best races. It is broader at some times than others, but it
is never very wide. How far it extends, and what capabilities it
includes, can be ascertained only by strenuous and intelligently
directed effort to occupy and utilize it fully. Few efforts to
influence public opinion are adequately directed, and the methods
employed for this purpose are usually haphazard and unscientific.
25. I think the trustees should have a library and collect all
local histories-of places in the state-and whatever materials for local
history may be available in any form. Some of the old town histories
are very valuable, and copies are becoming scarce. All town reports
should be collected and preserved, and those of certain boards and
commissions. The work of the trustees will doubtless produce a general
increase of interest in
local history a most wholesome and desirable result. In many of the
shore towns the descendants of the oldest families,
although educated in the public schools, are almost entirely ignorant
of the history of their own towns and of the part their ancestors had
in it. Many of the teachers in the schools are no better informed on
this subject. The lack of popular interest regarding it is often
astonishing. In one of the towns the two hundred and fiftieth
anniversary of the organization of
the church came and passed without any observance or recognition
whatever. There was not even a prayer-meeting, or any allusion to the
date in the sermons or services either before or after it. I think that
every town should prepare a brief compend, or manual, of the principal
facts in its own history, and provide that it shall be studied and
taught in the town schools. It would be the natural introduction to
state and United States history. Once, at least, each year the schools
should visit and examine the most important historic places in the town.
26. The neglect and desecration of many of the old graveyards in
the
shore towns is a matter for most serious regret. I have not mentioned
all the instances that came under my observation. There were too many
of them for separate description, and
the story became monotonous. It is unaccountable that, in several
cases, with vast areas of barren and worthless ground on every side,
the citizens should have decided to run
a public road directly through the old cemeteries, thus violating the
graves of their forefathers and destroying the head-stones, by which
alone the resting-places of their dust could be identified. The sites
of some of the smaller early burying-places are perhaps irrecoverably
lost and indistinguishable,
but steps should at once be taken to mark and protect all that remain.
27. It was encouraging to find so many highly civilized men in the
office of town clerk, and out of it. My thanks are due to the town
officers and citizens in general everywhere.
Boston, Mass.
J. B. Harrison.
Garden and
forest. / Volume 5, Issue 240. [September 28, 1892, 465-466]
CORRESPONDENCE:
Early Autumn near Cape Cod. Mrs. Schuyler Van
Rensselaer.
Early Autumn near Cape Cod.
To the Editor of GARDEN AND FOREST:
Sir,--I should much rather write myself down as living on Cape Cod than
near it, for there is a distinctiveness, not to say distinction, in its
name, a share in which all its neighbors covet. Every one knows where
Cape Cod is, and thinks he knows what it is, although accurate
knowledge on this latter point is, as a fact, extremely rare, while to
say that one lives on the western shore of Buzzard's Bay conveys a very
vague idea to most persons of other than New England birth.
However, though we are only three miles to the
westward of the Wareham River, on the eastern bank of which Cape Cod
begins, no one worthy to speak to the readers of GARDEN AND FOREST
could claim to belong to " the Cape." For its nominal beginning is a
true geographical beginning, and this means a distinct botanical
beginning, or, more exactly, a distinct botanical leaving off.
Everything that grows on Cape Cod grows here, from Cranberries to Pitch
Pines. But many things grow here which do not grow beyond the Wareham
River-White Pines, for instance, in profusion. And many other things
flourish here which just cling to existence there, so that the whole
aspect of our woodlands and road-sides is different; and as one drives
still further to the westward, the difference grows ever more strongly
accentuated, so that even five or six miles from the shores of the bay
one can hardly believe that the sandy, heathy, boggy, rough-and-tumble
stretch of the Cape country is covered by the same sky which
covers these verdant rolling meadows, the sturdy Oaks and Maples and
White Pines of the woodland, and the great Poplars and Locusts by the
cottage-doors.
So, we think, we are repaid for not belonging to the
Cape by the variety which our daily excursions can compass. The Cape is
delightful, but it is all of a piece, and those who live on it cannot
easily go elsewhere. But we can go to the Cape after dinner and be back
to tea, and the next day can go to our pastoral inland country in an
equally brief space of time. Nor do we always think that we must go far
in either direction, for even the roads nearest about us offer
perpetual variety, now crossing salt-marshes and causeways over
rippling arms of water; now threading tall Pine-groves, and now
Oak-thickets, to bring us out on modest elevations, which we are
pleased to call cliffs, where, suddenly, the wide azure expanse of the
bay is seen beneath our feet; now taking us between hay-fields and
small fruit-farms, where the houses are prettily gray or white and the
barns are bigger than the houses; and, again, leading us through miles
of narrow roads, where woods of some twenty years' growth come close to
the carriage-wheels, the boughs meet overhead, and the grass grows tall
between the three ruts worn by the never frequent, but never altogether
failing passage of the typical vehicles of the country; the shackly,
faded buggy and the black-hooded, four-seated carryall, each drawn by
its single horse. Two-horse conveyances cannot comfortably penetrate
these wood-roads, although for a one-horse vehicle they offer very good
driving, the sandy soil of the Cape only appearing here and there in
very brief stretches. No visitor should bring his own one-horse vehicle
to this part of the world, but should depend upon those he will find
awaiting him. Our axles are so wide that an imported carriage does not
"track," and the difference between driving in such a one and in one
which does track is the difference between entire comfort and an
exasperating tilt and joggle.
Of course, it is in the mountain regions of central
and northern New England that the colors of the American autumn show in
the grandest and most amazing way. But our vegetation "turns" very
beautifully; and it reveals its beauty, so to say, in a much more
intimate fashion. The finest autumnal features of an inland scene are
distant stretches of parti-colored hill-side, tall, broken masses of
variegated forest in the middle distances, and, sprinkled about in the
nearer meadows, superb single examples of flaming red or yellow or
purple trees. But we have no hill-sides; when we see a mass of woods in
the middle distance it is low and draws a nearly straight line across
the horizon; and, in our most characteristic drives, the trees are
small, and one sees them very close at hand, crowded beside us, and
their boughs close above our heads. Here and there we get fine open
views of meadows and marshes bounded by woodland or sea. But they are
all flat views, and, as a rule, there are few isolated large trees. The
colors in autumn lie in low far-extending level masses, or, when we
thread the forest-roads, strike the eye as a perpetual succession of
details, rather than as broad effects. Roads such as these are called,
I believe, "green ribbon roads" in some parts of New England. Ours are
certainly ribbon-like, perpetually and gracefully meandering with never
the smallest stretch of straightness, and in summer they have a
green all their own, for no inland light brings out the keenest emerald
tints possible to foliage as does the salt-spangled light of these
sea-shore parts. But when we look along them in autumn we feel as
though we had put an immense kaleidoscope to our eye, so many are the
colors they assume, and so impossibly vivid each one seems.
Of course, it is not in the first half of September,
not until October, that, in these mild regions, one sees autumn in a
very brilliant guise. But the beginning of the red and yellow season
has a special charm of its own. Autumn is setting her palette, trying
her effects with little streaks and spots and splashes, indicating what
she means to do, sketching in her color-scheme; and every one knows
that a great artist's sketches have a peculiar value to the
understanding eye. A tricksy and willful sprite is this particular
great artist, in those youthful days when her Christian name has not
been changed from "Early" to "Late." There seems no reason in her work,
although everything she does rhymes delightfully with the next thing. I
pity any scientific student who should come to our woods in
mid-September, trying to unravel why our foliage "turns." Neither
frost, nor sun, nor moisture, nor dryness can be credited with any
distinct influence; little can be laid to the account of family traits
when tree is compared with tree; nor does soil or situation seem to
have a discernible effect upon the gay beginning of the masquerade.
We may say, in a rough sense, that the Tupelos turn
first. But some of them turned in August, and some have not yet
begun to turn, while some are russet and others are redder than
scarlet. And a green one may stand close beside the brightest red one,
or one bough may be scarlet while all the others are emerald still. But
even the Tupelos are not so individually willful as the Maples. They
are all Scarlet Maples by name (the Sugar Maple does not grow with us),
but they are not all equally scarlet by nature; or, at least, they do
not all reveal this nature at the same time or in the same way.
This year they began to enliven themselves unusually
early a week or more ago many of the smaller ones were already vivid.
But I have never noted a year when they enlivened themselves in
so fragmentary and fantastic a fashion. It is hard, as yet, to find an
example which is red all over. I passed a wide swamp the other day
which was surrounded by hundreds of them and thickly beset with others,
all hardly more than saplings, gracefully tall and slender. Every one
of them, I think, showed some brilliant red; but not one of them, as
far as I could see, had more than one or two red boughs. It was not as
though each tree had assumed a new garment; it was as though each had
flung out a bold banner of its own. Often, in
the narrow woodland roads, one comes upon a Maple with not a whole
bough, but merely the end of a bough flaming; or not
the whole end, but just a couple of swinging leaves.
In my drive to-day I came upon a good-sized
symmetrical specimen, still perfectly fresh and green, with one single
scarlet leaf hung out over the roadway; and immediately beyond it was
another with only half a leaf tinted, the line between green and red
being as neatly drawn as though by a painter's brush. And as the Maples
are behaving, just so are the Scarlet Oaks, while their big brothers,
the White Oaks, give no sign that they know the summer is past.
Where the roads skirt the salt-marshes splendid
effects of color may already be seen, although these are less vivid
than those which will soon follow. The marshes (we call them " ma'shes"
here, and so, says an English friend, are they called in South Devon)
are not orange-colored yet, but they are a fine dullish yellow,
streaked with green and brown, and here and there accented by big
patches and ribbons of a blood-like deep red. From a distance the plant
which gives this remarkable color looks like some species of
Salicornia, but I have never been able to get near enough on the
yielding soil to see it distinctly. Around these marshes the woods are
still chiefly green. No brown tones yet appear, and of yellow tones
only the dull neutral
tints of the little Birches. But a splash of scarlet shows occasionally
where a Maple or Tupelo stands with its foot in the wet.
Where the roads go beneath tall Pine-groves not a
sign or symbol of autumn appears. The sparse growths beneath are as
freshly verdant as the soft swirling canopy of needles above. But the
open roadsides are gay, for we pride ourselves on our variety in shrubs
and vines, and these turn early; and, moreover, the Asters and
Golden-rods are still at their finest.
No withered grayish plumes stand for the Golden-rod
yet, but along the shores the thick-leaved maritime species is in
perfection, and on drier-spots other tall or low paniculated kinds, and
the softer, more poetic flat-topped masses of the corymbose species.
The Vacciniums, which later will spread a carpet of glory along the
roadsides and through the woodland glades, are already, some of them,
bronzed and some of them red. Here and there a Clethra has turned
bronze-like too. Once in a while we come upon a little Sassafras whose
mitten-like leaves are yellow and red in spots like a particularly
speckled apple. Now and then, like a flash of flame, a thin garland of
Virginia Creeper encircles a Pine-tree trunk; near it
flaunts a mass of Poison Ivy, and, further on, a streamer of Smilax
tries to make us believe it is a Virginia Creeper too.
Sometimes, lying low beside the road, beneath an
arboreal canopy still entirely green, there is a mass of varied tangled
color enchanting to behold; and, again, the undergrowth is as green as
the trees, except for tiny spikes and spots of russet and scarlet.
The eye which can appreciate accents as well as
broad effects, which loves details as well as masses, and which can be
delighted by a little colored leaf as well as by a huge colored tree,
finds infinite satisfaction in our country in these early autumn days.
And what a sky covers this diversified panorama of simple beauties!
People who live among the hills must do without real horizons. They
never know what it is to see the edge of their world in every
direction, and to know what the sun's rays are about in all quarters of
the sky. They never see a sunset as we see it here all around the
margin of the
heavens. This is particularly the month for sunsets, and we usually
have four of them every night. There will be a crimson one flaring in
the west and a rosy one blushing in the east; one with masses of dark
purple clouds lying over a purple sea to the southward, and a colder,
purer, even more enchanting one in the north, pale green as to its sky,
palest lavender as to its clouds. No mountain region can do this for
you, and you must come to our individual little corner of the world,
just under the heel of Cape Cod, to know exactly what you miss by
living in the mountain.
Marion, Mass.
M. G. Van Rensselaer.
Garden and forest. / Volume 7,
Issue 318. [March 28, 1894, 121-130]
Recent Publications.
The Old Colony Town and other Sketches. By William Root
Bliss. Houghton, Mifflin & Co.
Some time ago we noticed Mr. Bliss's Colonial Times on Buzzard's Bay,
and the town with which he now chiefly deals is Plymouth, from which he
makes brief excursions into more southerly regions. He gives us
citations from old documents, and records which show how thickly wooded
were once many regions which now are barren of forest-growth, or are
covered only by dwarfed substitutes for their original riches. He shows
us, too, that the early colonists were desperately afraid of the ruin
which eventually overtook
their inheritance in this direction, and that the fact of its arrival
at a later day meant no want of wisdom on their
part and no lack of legislation. For example, looking eastward from
Plymouth Rock, says Mr. Bliss, "you see a long sand-spit stretching out
from the south shore. It keeps the sea-swells from rolling over the
harbor when the tide is in. It was once covered with trees; and a
town-meeting of the year 1702 considering the great damage likly to
accrew the harbour by cutting down the pine trees at the beach did
order 'that henceforth Noe pine trees shall be felled on forfiture of 5
shillings pr tree & that Noe man shall set aney fire on said beach
on forfiture of 5
shillings per time.' Now there is not a tree on it." Again, from Burial
Hill you see "the barren sandy highland of Cape Cod,
which, when the Mayflower arrived, was compassed about to the very sea
with oaks, pines, juniper, sassafras and other sweet wood."' The
promontory at the end of
Duxbury Beach, which bears the Gurnet Lights, and in old times was
called "the Gurnett's Nose," was likewise covered with trees.
Seventy-five years after the landing of the Pilgrims their species were
noted: Walnuts, Poplars,
Cedars and Hornbeam, which last, says Mr. Bliss, "was a hard wood, used
for the keel of ships." Probably Tupelos were meant; for a little
farther to the south, near Buzzard's Bay, these trees are now common,
sometimes finely developed in sheltered woodlands, sometimes near the
edge of the water, so gnarled and torn and twisted that it is hard to
determine their character without close examination; and the only name
by which they are locally known is Hornbeams.
Of Cuttyhunk, one of the islands which lie off the
mouth of Buzzard's Bay, Gosnold wrote, nearly three hundred years ago,
that it bore "noble forests," and was covered with "the
elegantine, the thorn and the honeysuckle, the wild pea, the tansey and
young sassafras, strawberries, raspberries, grape
vines, all in profusion." Now, Mr. Bliss tells us, "its surface is a
succession of hills and valleys growing coarse grass, without a tree or
a shrub," or any vestige of its former forests. But on Naushon Island,
not far away, are "old forests of Beech, Oak, Hickory, Pine and Cedar
trees"-evidently owing to the fact that it has always been an undivided
piece of property, and during nearly two hundred years was in the
possession of only three successive families.
Moose and deer were common on this island at least as late as the
middle of the last century; and there are deer still, although no
moose, in the woods of Plymouth County and Cape Cod.
Mr. Bliss tells again the true story of Plymouth
Rock, and it is worth repeating, for, although often told before,
legend thrives in our new western world as well as in the Old World
across the
seas, and here, as there, often receives the seal of official
endorsement. "Up to the year 1741 this famous Rock...
rested on the shores unnoticed. It was in the way of commerce, and some
persons having, in the phrase of the time,' Libertie to Whorfe
downe
into the sea,' were about to cover it with a wharf. Then Thomas Faunce,
ninety-four years old, came up from the back country and protested, and
told the wharf-builders that his father had told him when he was a boy
that the Mayflower passengers landed on the Rock. The memory of a man
of ninety-four is not likely to be correct in regard to words spoken
when he was a boy. Moreover, Faunce's father was not a passenger on the
Mayflower, and therefore he did not tell this story to his son from a
personal knowledge of it being the landing. The wharf was built; and
the Rock eventually became the doorstep of a warehouse...
The only record of the first landing is in these words: 'They sounded
ye
harbor & founde it fitt for shipping, and marched into ye land
& found diverse cornfeilds & little runing
brooks, a place fitt for situation; at least it was ye best they could
find.' From what point on the shore the men who were prospecting for
the colony 'marched into ye land' is not known. Romance and a vague
tradition have designated this Rock, the only boulder on the shore; but
its remoteness from the island seems to forbid the supposition that the
shallop went so far away from its direct course to find a
landing-place. And yet there is some reason for believing the story of
the Rock. Faunce was born in the year 1647." Therefore, until he was
forty years old, some of the passengers on the Mayflower, including
John Alden, survived. "
When Faunce related his story the landing was not so ancient an event
as to have lost its traditionary details; and he may have told what was
already known to others, who, feeling that whether their ancestors
landed on a rock or on the beach was a matter of no importance, did not
trouble themselves to come forth and confirm Faunce's story."
It is less than fifty years since popular attention
and sentiment were
directed to Plymouth Rock. Daily steamboats brought streams of
pleasure-seekers from Boston to Plymouth long before
the Rock was an object of attraction to them. But now, says Mr. Bliss,
modern pilgrims to this stone "constitute a daily show which serves to
entertain the loungers who are sitting atop of Cole's Hill.... They
walk around the Rock; they put their hands on it; they gaze at it; they
spell aloud the inscription '1620'; they step across it; they stand
still on it and make good resolutions; and I
have seen respectable-looking men and women meet on it and kiss each
other." In short, it has become more than a relic-a fetich, an object
of popular wonderment and adoration. "Elevated into the protection of
iron pickets
and gates, sheltered from sun and rain by a granite canopy, it has
become to strangers and wayfarers a curiosity as extraordinary as a
mermaid or a flying-horse would be."
Burial Hill likewise gets more honor at the hands of
modern
sentiment than history can prove it to deserve. " It is not probable,"
says Mr. Bliss, " that any of the Mayflower
passengers were buried in this hill. In John Howland's time, and long
before, it was the custom to bury the dead in the lands belonging to
their homestead, where the burial was done with no ceremony of any
kind; earth to earth, without even a prayer.... Many of the Mayflower
company who died within the colony were probably buried in their own
farms, and for this reason their graves are now unknown..... As the
'common house' in which the colonists worshipped stood, until the year
1637, at the foot of Cole's Hill, this hill became the churchyard
according to a
custom of Old England." Four skeletons, exhumed about fifty years ago
from Cole's Hill, support the belief that this, and not Burial Hill,
was the first burial-place of the
colonists. " It has been said that graves on Burial Hill were leveled
and sown with grain to conceal from the Indians the losses of the
colony. The tender sentiment of this poetic and oft-repeated statement
is dispelled by the fact that the neighboring Indians were friendly;
and if they desired to know, it was easy to ascertain what the losses
had been by counting the heads of the survivors."
In 1637 a new meeting-house was built at the foot of Burial Hill,
and then it did become the churchyard; but the fact that only five
grave-stones exist here, bearing dates earlier than 1700, shows that
the custom of laying the dead to rest in the lands whereon they had
lived still persisted; and, indeed, as Mr. Bliss remarks, "the custom
of burying in the homestead land still exists in New England."
Garden and forest. / Volume 8,
Issue 399. [October 16, 1895, 411-420]
Seacoast Planting.
AT the late meeting of the American Forestry Association, in
Springfield, Massachusetts, Mr. Leonard W. Ross, of Boston, delivered
an address on the subject of seacoast-planting as practiced on the
Province lands of Cape Cod, where an effort is made to prevent the
shifting sands at
the extremity of the Cape from injuring settlements and the harbor. Mr.
Ross has kindly sent us all abstract of his address, which we herewith
publish:
The first work in connection with seashore planting
should be a careful study of the individual case to be treated, as no
two instances will be found to carry identical or even parallel
conditions. Specific instruction to apply in every case is, therefore,
out of the question, and only general suggestions can be made
forsolving such problems. The material for planting should
in all cases be in the best possible condition. The area to be covered
should be carefully prepared before actual planting begins. Of course,
the results which might follow an equal effort inland, or in sheltered
situations, or in better soil, need not be expected. The soil to be
planted is usually thin and sterile, if, indeed, it is anything better
than sand. In nearly all cases it is best to make thick border
plantations on the water side of rapid-growing trees and shrubs which
have resistant power against salt and wind, and among these may be
planted longer-lived and more sturdy-growing kinds, the former acting
as a nurse or protection to the latter in their earliest days. When
this has become established, other plantings may be
made behind it with some certainty of success. It is generally supposed
that the number of species adapted to this use is extremely limited,
but experience shows that such is not the case. It becomes not so much
a question of what to plant, but rather how to plant. In preliminary
plantings the
plants should always be set very closely, that one may protect the
other. A good mulch should then be placed over the entire area and
loaded down with stones such as may be usually found on the shore; the
stones not only hold the mulch in place, but assist materially in
retaining moisture during the
dry season. Spring planting is safer than fall planting. It not
infrequently happens, however, that plants set in early spring break
into growth at once; then late spring storms follow, the
tendergrowth is killed off and a secondary growth follows. This weakens
the plants, and only such kinds as can endure these conditions should
be used, especially for preliminary
work. This may be avoided in a great measure by holding back the growth
of the plants, by frequent transplantings in
the nursery until the season is well advanced. Deep planting is found
to be the safest in nearly all shore work, as the drainage is usually
excessive.
Planting on the Province lands of Massachusetts,
although still in its infancy, so far as the work under the present
administration has gone, has now passed the experimental state and is
being developed into a system at once conservative, thorough and
energetic. The entire area (over 3,000 acres) consists only of sand. A
considerable portion of this is covered with a surprisingly luxuriant
growth of trees and shrubs, deciduous, evergreen and coniferous,
together with many creepers and climbers. On the outer or ocean side
are many hundreds of acres of wildly drifting sand-dnunes or areas
covered to a greater or less degree by Beach Grass, Ammophila
arundinacea, and in
the hollows and low places with other grasses. Many thousands of
dollars have been expended in Beach Grass planting, and, while this has
not been wholly in vain, it has failed to hold the sand securely in
place. If properly watched, and all breaks attended to when first
started, the Beach Grass might hold the sand in check, but it would
require constant
attention. It is thought safest to cover the area with a growth of
woody plants and trees. There is abundant evidence that this outer area
was formerly covered by forestgrowth,
principally of Pine; the original layer of mold, with portions of
stumps and pitchy heart-wood, is now frequently uncovered as the
sand-hills recede inland.
Experimental plantings were first made by us in
April, 1894. Of the plants not blown out, or buried many feet deep by
drifting sand, a fair proportion lived and made a satisfactory growth,
but most of them were so cut by the drifting sand the following winter
as to die to the surface of the ground. We have this year established a
nursery on the lands for the propagation
of stock to be used in future work, in preference to using imported
plants, and shall extend it as our needs demand.
We have now growing in the nursery over 250,000
young trees and shrubs, mostly raised from seed. Our stock of trees
consists mainly of Pines (P. rigida, P. Austriaca, P. sylvestris, P.
Strobus, P. insignis and P. Pinaster), Alder, Birch, Hornbeam,
Ailanthus, Oaks, Silver Maple and several varieties of strong-growing
Willows and Silver Poplar. Of shrubs, we have Privets, Scotch Broom
(Cytisus scoparius) in large quantity,
Myrica cerifera and a few others, intending to put in next year several
other kinds of native growth, as well as Tamarix Gallica and such
others as may promise to be of service in this work.
We make a preliminary planting of Beach Grass,
setting strong clumps eighteen to twenty-four inches apart. This makes
sufficient growth the first year to nearly cover the ground and to
reach a height of about two feet. The following season we
plant among this such woody plants as Genista scoparia, Myrica cerif
era, Arnalanchier Canadensis, Rosa lucida, etc. Among these we intend
to plant at the same time a considerable
quantity of acorns of our native Oaks, to be followed in a year or two
with the several varieties of Pine and other trees. Outside and to the
windward of this we are making thick wind-break plantations of strong
Willows, Silver Poplars, Locust, etc.
It is expected that in time this entire area may be
covered with a forest-growth which will not only serve to prevent the
sand from
drifting inland toward the town of Provincetown, and eventually filling
and destroying a useful harbor, but will at the same time furnish a
practical example of reforesting waste and useless land, of which our
state has many thousands of acres now producing nothing of value.