likely find himself counting the bushes; or, at least, he will be making
mental comparisons of the various bushes, and wondering why they are not
all sheared to be exactly alike. Figure 17 shows how the same "artist"
has treated two deutzias and a juniper. Much the same effect could have
been secured, and with much less trouble, by laying two flour barrels
end to end and standing a third one between them.

[Illustration: 16. The making of a good group, but spoiled by the
pruning shears.]

[Illustration: 17. The three guardsmen.]

I must hasten to say that I have not the slightest objection to the
shearing of trees. The only trouble is in calling the practice art and
in putting the trees where people must see them (unless they are part of
a recognized formal-garden design). If the operator simply calls the
business shearing, and puts the things where he and others who like them
may see them, objection could not be raised. Some persons like painted
stones, others iron bulldogs in the front yard and the word "welcome"
worked into the door-mat, and others like barbered trees. So long as
these likes are purely personal, it would seem to be better taste to put
such curiosities in the back yard, where the owner may admire them
without molestation.

[Illustration: Fig. 18 A bit of semi-rustic work built into a native
growth]

There is a persistent desire among workmen to shear and to trim: it
displays their industry. It is a great thing to be able to allow the
freedom of nature to remain. The artist often builds his structures into