AN ORCHID FARM. 185 
gathered beneath one roof, I confess, for my own 
part, a hatred of references. They interrupt the 
writer, and they distract the reader. At the place 
I have chosen to illustrate our theme, one has 
but to cross a corridor from any of the working 
quarters to reach the showroom. We may start 
upon our critical survey from the very dwelling- 
house. Pundits of agricultural science explore the 
sheds, I believe, the barns, stables, machine-rooms, 
and so forth, before inspecting the crops. We 
may follow the same course, but our road offers an 
unusual distraction. 
It passes from the farmer’s hall beneath a high 
glazed arch. Some thirty feet beyond, the path 
is stopped by a wall of tufa and stalactite which 
rises to the lofty roof, and compels the traveller to 
turn right or left. Water pours down it and falls 
trickling into a narrow pool beneath. Its rough 
front is studded with orchids from crest to base. 
Coelogenes have lost those pendant wreaths of 
bloom which lately tipped the rock as with snow. 
But there are Cymbidiums arching long sprays of 
green and chocolate ; thickets of Dendrobe set with 
flowers beyond counting—ivory and rose and 
purple and orange; scarlet Anthuriums: huge 
clumps of Phajus and evergreen Calanthe, with a 
score of spikes rising from their broad leaves ; 
