AN ORCHID FARM. 187 
Mexican orchid, as close as they will fit. Upon 
the left hand lie a series of glass structures; upon 
the right, below the level of the corridor, the 
workshops ; at the end—why, to be frank, the end 
is blocked by a ponderous screen of matting just 
now. But this dingy barrier is significant of a 
work in hand which will not be the least curious 
nor the least charming of the strange sights here. 
The farmer has already a “siding” of course, for 
the removal of his produce ; he finds it necessary 
to have a station of his own also for the con- 
venience of clients. Beyond the screen at present 
lies an ‘area of mud and ruin, traversed by 
broken walls and rows of hot-water piping 
swathed in felt to exclude the chill air. A few 
weeks since, this little wilderness was covered with 
glass, but the ends of the long “ houses” have been 
cut off to make room for a structure into which 
visitors will step direct from the train. The plat- 
form is already finished, neat and trim; so are the 
vast boilers and furnaces, newly rebuilt, which 
would drive a cotton factory. 
A busy scene that is which we survey, looking 
down through openings inthe wall of the corridor. 
Here is the composing-room, where that magnifi- 
cent record of orchidology in three languages, the 
“ Reichenbachia,” slowly advances from year to 
