done what he could to
deface it. Here is a curious fact: the human being is capable of a
certain amount of civilization under the pressure of the necessities of
city life. He--or she--will learn to dispose inoffensively of the waste
and rubbish that drag after him like a trail wherever he goes. He--and
always likewise she--can be taught to burn his waste paper, to bag his
rags, to barrel his ashes, to burn the refuse from his table, to hide
the relics of china and glass. In fact, he _can_ live in a modern house
with no back yard, no "glory-hole" whatever.

Yet if one would see how superficial his culture, how easy his relapse
into barbarism, he need only open his windows upon an empty lot. This
tempting space, this unguarded bit of the universe, brings out all the
savage within him. Ashes and old boots, broken glass, worn-out tin pans,
and newspapers whose moment is over, alike drift naturally into that
unfortunate spot. The lot under my window had suffered at the hands of
lawless men,--not to say women,--for it offered the eternal oblivion of
"over the back fence" to no less than ten kitchens with their presiding
genii.

Nor was this all. The lot and all the land about it had belonged to an
unsettled estate, and for years had been a dumping-ground for carts,
long before the surrounding buildings had begun their additions to its
stores.

But last spring a change came to it. Its nearly fenced condition for the
first time allowed Mother Nature a chance, and anxious, like other
mothers, to hide the evil deeds of her children, she went busily to
work,

"With a hand of healing to cover the wounds
And strew the artificial mounds
And cuttings with underwood and flowers."

We may call them weeds, but forever blessed be the hardy, rapid-growing,
ever-ready plants we name so scornfully! What else could so quickly
answer the mother's purpose? She had not time to evolve a century-plant,
or elaborate an oak-tree, before man would be upon it again. She did the
best she could, and the result was wonderful.

When I returned from the country I found, to my delight, in place of the
abomination of desolation I have described, a beautiful green oasis in
the world of stone and brick. From fence to fence flourished and waved
in the breeze an unbroken forest. The unsightly heaps had become a range
of hills, sloping gently down to the level on one side, and ending on
the other in an abrupt declivity, with the highest peak bare